


Monsters and Madness.

by AnissaATaylor



Series: What Was Lost. [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Don't get used to short chapters, Feels, I ramble, Implied Rape/ Non Con, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki isn't an Avenger, Lots of Angst, Maybe More Fluff, More angst, Multi, Probably lots of swearing, Set Post Avengers, So does Gylla actually, Some Depictions of Violence/ Torture, Some Fluff, Sorry Not Sorry, hurt/ comfort, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnissaATaylor/pseuds/AnissaATaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life never gives you what you expect: a fall through an abyss; the challenge of starting your life over in a strange world; pain and longing; monsters and madness.</p><p>Loki had failed in his attempt to enslave earth and was taken back to Asgard as a war criminal. Family secrets start bubbling to the surface, and in a desperate attempt to help her son Frigga calls back the only person she can think of that could get through to him when everyone else failed. But at what cost, and will it even work at all?</p><p>In which Loki suffers, Thor struggles, Frigga fumes and Odin is indulgent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Where You Are.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wayward_Wandering](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Wandering/gifts).



When she'd started the free clinic three years ago she never would have predicted how busy it would get, although three years ago she wouldn't have imagined New York would be under attack by an angry Norse god and his army of alien soldiers. In the six months since the attack the number of patients coming through the door had at least doubled, and she was glad that after thousands of years saving she had enough money to keep the place open. Not that the community didn't help, donating and holding fund-raisers, even volunteering in their free time to help however they could, but the costs were insane, especially with her tendency to wave charges from the least fortunate. Those without money or insurance knew that if they needed it, help would be there, and she didn't mind the cost. The problem was now everyone was less fortunate, losing houses, jobs, businesses to the invasion.

She stood at the nurses station, long red hair falling around her face from where it had slipped loose from it's braid, pen scratching furiously on the chart of one of their regular patients still recovering from injuries they'd received during the invasion, still learning to live with the aftermath of such a horrific day, learning to live now with only one leg, the other lost when it was crushed under debris. She heard the soft tread of smart shoes, lacking the squeak that often accompanied trainers or the click of high heels, and turned to find one of her favourite volunteers smiling behind her, two cups of coffee in his hands. She wouldn't say to anyone else that he was her favourite, because frankly she shouldn't have favourites, but he was gorgeous and kind and funny in a way that made him seem older than his years, in a way that connected with the part of her that had seen more than she should have and who was she to squash her schoolgirl crush?

“Good morning Dr. Meadows.” He handed her one of the coffees, like clockwork, with a little nod of his head. He brought her a latte every morning, and it was her favourite part of the day, not least because he still had his jacket on and smelled like old leather, clean air and soap. Her fingers brushed against his, only slightly by accident, and she smiled back at him with a small shake of her head. She didn't know how many times she'd asked him not to call her Doctor, but ever the gentleman he seemed unable to just use her first name like everyone else.

“Steve, please, call me Gyllian.”

“Sorry.” He blushed slightly, tipping his head down like a nervous school boy and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. “I was wondering, if it isn't out of line to ask, whether you wanted to go to the movies with me tomorrow night.” Her smile widened and she nodded slightly. Quite the turn out for the books, it was shaping up to be a brilliant day indeed.

“Yeah, I think I'd like that.”

“Great.” He grinned, boyish and genuinely excited. “I'll pick you up? Say... Seven?”

“Sure... I'll give you my address.” She pulled a piece of notepaper off of a stack on the desk behind her before writing her address and mobile number on it in as neat handwriting as she could manage. _It wouldn't do any good if he couldn't read what I'd written._ Handing it to him with a smile she felt suddenly nervous as she realised with a start that this was her first date in a very long time. Too long, really. Steve moved to speak as he slipped the paper from her hand, his fingers brushing hers much the same way hers had brushed his earlier and she wondered whether that had been as accidental as hers, when a voice spoke up, breaking their slightly too heavy eye contact.

“Gyllian, sorry, Mr Jamison is back, can you take a look?” She turned and took the file out of Michelles hand, ignoring the little smirk that played across her lips, the knowing look in her eye.

“Of course Michelle, I'll be right there.” She turned back to Steve with a sad smile, sorry to see their gentle flirting come to an abrupt end. “Sorry, duty calls.”

“No problem. If I don't see you before I'll see you tomorrow night. I should give you my number, you know, just in case.” He stuttered over his words a bit in light of their audience, and she felt a warmth in her chest. He was pretty adorable, all told. There weren't many men she'd met that had such a mix of boyish charm and strength, impeccable manners and an unflappability that made him useful in an emergency, a way of speaking that put you at ease. It was like he was from another time entirely, back in the day when women were ladies and men were men, where gender roles were different but just starting to turn into what they are now. Were courting was still a thing, and men took women out to dance.

“I'll see you later.”

\---

The palace was quiet in a way that it normally struggled to be, a hush that seemed to buzz with fear and nervous energy, still as a child hiding hoping not to be caught. The air was thick with the silence, and he took a level of pride in knowing that _he_ was the cause of it, Loki, the great pretender. Loki, bastard son of Frost Giants. Loki, prince of two realms, wanted in none. He wondered if his name was muttered with fear since the destroyer incident, if he had become the boogyman parents used to tame unruly children. _“Be good or Loki will come and take you to Jötunheim.”_ He hoped so. The Aesir had never liked him, merely tolerated him for his parentage, but now... Now they could do what they had always wanted to do, openly fear him. Hate him. Better they were honest about it instead of hiding behind a mask of kindness. This had stopped being his home long ago, none of the people here were his friends, he had lost nothing with his actions. Everything he had to lose had been taken long ago. 

The trial had been a joke, nothing more than a show for the people to make them believe that justice was taking place. He played his part dutifully, refusing to show repentance, to explain his actions, to offer the reasons they all so desperately craved. The bad guy, a role he was growing ever more used to playing, it fit like a worn in pair of riding gloves. Odin had imparted his sentence and Thor and Frigga had looked on sadly while he was lead away towards his cell. Soon enough Odin would come and sow his lips shut, to keep his liars tongue in check, and once that was done it would be nothing more than an endless cycle of punishments that held nothing to what he had already suffered since his fall. 

He stretched out on the poor excuse for a bed that fit snugly into the corner of his dank cell, eyeing the amenities that he was afforded. A hole in the floor in lieu of a toilet, which was charming, his cot and threadbare blanket, and a low stool that was too short to be much use as anything other than a footstool at best. The walls were bare stone, chipped and crumbling, covered in moisture and damp, the floor bare flagstone that held the cold even in the warmest places, so in a place like this the chill from them would set into your bones and never leave. There wasn't much light, although he was thankful for the small amount, after the abyss darkness wasn't something he was fond of. Things could hide in the darkness, and although the only thing that would be hiding here were rats and insects, the thought of it at all made his skin crawl. The worst part, he supposed, of his so called punishment wasn't really that bad. Not really. 

The door creaked open and he set his features into a look of measured nonchalance, just as well worn a mask as that of the bad guy, the villain. Odin stood in the doorway, a small black case in his hand and a frown of displeasure mixed with grim determination on his face. He made his way slowly over to his son, tread heavy.

“You know why I am here?” 

“Yes.” He would have to be a fool not to, frankly, and the question was insulting to say the least.

“Do you have anything to say before I begin. It will be your last chance to speak in your defence my son.”

“I am not your son.”

“So be it.” The first stitch burned as the thread pulled tight against the wound left by the sharp metal of the needle. Blood trickled down his chin, pain burned bright, but he didn't flinch, didn't blink as his lips met and held. Odin struggled slightly to break through the flesh of his mouth, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes sad. More pain, more blood, more tightness, and still he moved not an inch and made not a sound safe so his slow steady breathing through his nose. It took less than ten minutes before the job was done, and Odin stood over the man who used to be his son, filled with sorrow and self loathing at what he had done. He had always promised to protect his children, and here he was mutilating his youngest. It wasn't right. Loki avoided his face, choosing instead to look at the wall, and the tug in his chest worsened. That his son could hate him so much...

He left without a goodbye, knowing that it was too late for words and anything he said would be ignored or treated as falsehood. The door slammed shut behind him, lock thudding into place. It was done.

\---

The door to his cell opened not long after the lights had gone out, and careful footsteps made their way across the floor towards him, stopping close to where he lay. He didn't move to see who was there, not caring enough to make the effort. His mouth ached where the thread tugged with each involuntary movement made, and stillness was simpler for now. 

“Well now, look who we have here, if it isn't Prince Loki.” He recognised the voice, cruel and mocking, filled with malice and not a small amount of glee. “I've waited a long while to have you alone, unprotected, weak. I see your little bangle stops you from using your magick, the same as it did when you were a child... There's no-one here to protect you now boy, no-one is going to come running when you cry. This is my house. These are my rules.”

He cursed himself for not seeing the foot coming, for not readying himself for the heavy toed boot that connected painfully with his ribs. It was his fault for letting his guard down in this place of all places. He still wasn't ready when the boot come down on his fingers with a crunch, or when the balled fist connected solidly with his cheek. Or maybe he was, and he decided to let it come anyway. He didn't know for sure.


	2. 01: Calling You Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am without my wonderful Beta/ Sounding Board, Wayward_Wandering currently, as she is without internet *SniffleSob* so apologies for any and all glaring errors or sucky bits. It is entirely her fault for going missing on me.  
> How rude.  
> Any and all feedback is most welcome, and I hope the prologue has been enjoyed by everyone who read it.  
> Note: I was watching Henry IV part 2 when I finished this off, so if the language seems a bit weird I blame it entirely on Shakespeare. I kept fighting the urge to write completely in Shakespearean English. -_-  
> Onwards!

In the heart of New York City garden space was at a premium, but she had been lucky enough to find and buy a small apartment with a roof top garden and small balcony terrace. It suited her needs, for now, to be there, although the recent destruction had been a bit too close for comfort. Her banishment and subsequent centuries spent shifting identities and countries of origin to hide her immortality were starting to take it's toll, and she relished her time in the hustle and bustle of a city she'd grown to love, had travelled back to as often as she could since it had sprung to life. She'd seen cities rise and fall all over the world, but for some reason New York had stolen her heart. It broke her heart to know that someone had tried to destroy it, and it broke more to know the identity of it's destructor. Her little prince, riding on the back of some strange machine had briefly passed her by in the midst of the chaos, but it was enough for her to know that something had gone quite terribly wrong over the years. She'd longed to step into the fray, to help fight to save the city she loved, to grab hold of her ex-charge and shake him until that twisted mockery of a smile left his face and the caring boy she knew returned, but without her magick she was helpless and would only do more harm than good. Instead she had helped clear the streets once the battle was over, had offered help to the wounded having trained as a nurse some years back and a doctor more recently, and generally joined in with the populace as they rallied together to return a semblance of normalcy to their lives. The idea of super heroes and powerful villains hadn't shocked her even half as much as her companions, but she'd put on a mask of shock and awe anyway. Seeing Loki and Thor so grown had shaken her more than she cared to admit, and seeing them on opposing sides of the battle hadn't sat well at all, so the shock itself hadn't been as hard to fake as it could have been.

Each evening, as night started to fall, she sat in her garden and looked up at the few stars she could see over the bright lights around her, seeing more behind them than just the vastness of space. Books full of legend and myth about Asgard and the Aesir had been her only source of information on what was happening back home, but more often than not she knew it was wrong... Thor and Loki didn't even have another brother for a start and she doubted very much that Loki had given birth or that Sif had set aside her sword and played the part of a dutiful if not loose wife. The stories of Loki's marriage had given her pause though, it was possible he had fallen in love and settled down for a time, but looking at the man she'd seen that day hadn't reminded her of someone who had loved that deeply, or had children to consider. He looked broken, betrayed, twisted up and feral. 

A blinding flash of blue light lit up the space in front of her, startling her so much that her glass of wine slipped from her hand and shattered against the flagstone of her patio. She glanced down, briefly noting how much, in this light, it looked like blood, before looking up at the man stood before her.

“Thor.” He had grown into a fine man, strong and handsome even with the lines of worry that creased his face. He wore his armour, the same she had seen him planning when he came of age only larger now, and deep red cape that signified his place in the royal family, as only royalty wore such vibrant colours. He didn't look like someone who had so recently been in a bitter battle except for his eyes. There was a pain there, the loss of the brother he knew maybe, their places on opposite sides of the same battle, that aged him beyond his years. She placed her right fist over her heart and offered a small bow, because although he may not be her king, he had earned her respect over the years.

“Gylla.” He placed a gentle hand on her arm and she straightened to smile at him, even being taller than her she still felt like she was looking at the child she had seen grow. He returned her smile with a tight one of his own, and she knew his reason for coming wasn't pleasant. 

“The tesseract isn't your usual mode of transport. Should that not be in the weapons vault?” He frowned momentarily before remembering that there wasn't much that she didn't know about Asgard when she was there, and while she'd missed it's original theft and it's subsequent travels on earth, she knew of the tesseract, what it could do. She probably knew it had been at the heart of the battle. Even without her magick there wasn't much she missed. He'd forgotten, really, more of her than he remembered. All that was left of her in his memory was the smiling woman who cared for his brother, gently scolded both of them, explained important things to him, warm and kind and soft. She was still those things, but slowly the rest of her came back to him, her strength, wisdom, passion. He was seeing the whole of her for the first time in many years and he found relief in it. This was the right thing to do, coming here.

“The Bi-Frost is broken, and I was sent urgently to seek you. The All-Father decided that this was a better choice than waiting.” She nodded her understanding and indicated for him to take a seat. 

“I see.” When they were both comfortable and she'd poured another glass of wine for herself, she turned her attention back to the conversation. “How have you been Thor?”

“I have been better. I was surprised when mother told me you were on Midgard.” She quirked an eyebrow at that, muffling a snort of disbelief before seeing that actually, he had been. He had been surprised and if the twisting of his brows and small frown on his lips were anything to go by there was more to it than pure surprise. Obviously he had been learning an awful lot about his family recently, and façades had started slipping.

“Why? This is where she sent me after all.”

“We were never told. We believed you had gone back to Vanaheim.” A twitch of something across his mouth, a flicker of sadness in his eyes, guilt mixed in. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't any of their faults really. He hadn't known, but still a bone weariness washed over her and she rubbed her eyes carelessly with one hand, fighting against a wave of annoyance at everything.

“Well, yes, of course. Why are you here Thor? Why had Odin sent his oldest son and a powerful artefact to seek me?” A million things unsaid ' _I have a life now, just.' 'I have a date with a gorgeous volunteer.' 'It's been so long.' 'What do you want from me?' 'I'm just doing what I was told.' 'Leave me be.'_ Asgard was her past. This, all of this, was her present and lord knows where her future was, when she would have to leave to stop the suspicions about why she didn't look like she'd aged a day since everyone she knew had met her. But this was her lot, all of it handed down by Frigga, a weight she more often than not managed to ignore that suddenly felt crushing.

“Mother would like for you to come back to Asgard.” He shuffled slightly in his chair and she was reminded of a younger version of him standing before her, asking for her to come with him to see his mother, she had something important she wished to ask about, please. He still held so much of the child she knew, but gone was the air of arrogance that seemed to surround him in his teenage years, the sense of entitlement.

“She sent you to ask me back?”

“Yes.”

“I can't, Thor. I cannot go back there, not after everything.” She rubbed her face roughly with her hands, eyes closed tight, fighting a bone weary tiredness that washed over her, tugging at her.

“I'm afraid you must. I believe, as does mother, that we need you.”

“Why would you possibly need me now?”

“It's Loki.” She looked at him sharply, eyes narrow.

“I was here, when he lead his army. What good can I do now?”

“There is something deeply wrong and cannot help him, he will not let us. Maybe he will you. I ask you to try, at least, to help him. I know you loved him dearly once.” His eyes were sad, mirroring the sadness she felt deep into her bones, and she wondered how he coped with the weight of it all... How he saw what had happened, how he dealt with it all. Whether he knew how a simple sentence cut so deep, as if she could ever stop loving either of them, no matter the distance or time passed.

“I still do.” The sigh was long, full of centuries of worry and mourning and a growing ache in her heart that had come to a head when she saw his face at the head of an invasion hell bent on destroying the place she now called home. She had wondered then if it had been a deliberate choice, but knew that more likely was coincidence. She had seen him broken, and she could not turn her back on him now when she was finally being given the opportunity to help, even if the thought of it all hurt more than she thought it ever could. “When do we leave?”

“Soon. I have something to give you first. I don't... I don't really understand why, I wasn't told, but mother said to give you this.” He stood and she followed suit, watching as he fished in his armour until he found what he was looking for, slowly holding out a small green gemstone in his large hand. It took a moment for what she was seeing to register, for the reality of it to sink in, and she stared for far too long at that little gem, the key to her freedom. She reached out slowly, reverently, and took it from him, cradling it in her palm. Two and a half centuries she had waited, never believing the day would come and yet here it was. She reached up, tugging a necklace out from under the neck her t-shirt, one littered with equally beautiful stones except for one. One stone missing, right in the center, and quickly she slipped the one in her hand into the gap. The stone clicked into place, and the necklaces clasp opened with a whispered sigh, and like a rush her magick came flowing back to her. Her eyes fluttered shut and her face turned towards the sky, a smile of pure joy washing across her face. Her hands raised up as if in prayer, and she stretched her fingers, fluttering them, feeling power resonate through them for the first time in so long. She was finally whole. Thor looked away nervously, feeling like he was intruding on a uniquely personal moment, but she didn't notice, too focussed on the energy pulsing through her, the feeling of static against her skin.

“Thank you Thor.” Her voice was a whisper, full of the most sincere gratitude he had ever heard, and he watched curiously as she lowered her arms, hands palm up, and with a flick of the wrist and a splaying of fingers fire blossomed in her palms, like miniature camp fires, and he could swear that behind her joyful smile there were tears in her eyes.

“You are welcome Gylla. I must warn you... Loki is different from the child you knew.”

“I know. He passed by me, I saw the madness in his eyes.”

“More so than that, he is not truly of Asgard.”

“I know. He is a frost giant.”

“How...”

“I have known since the day he discovered it. Why do you think I was banished?”

“He only knew a few years back when we travelled to Jötunheim, you were not there then Gylla.” They frowned at each other, both lost in their own confusion.

“No my dear prince, he knew the day I was banished centuries ago, the day your father fell into an unexpected Odinsleep. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“If that is so, then why did he keep it a secret all those years? Why did it seem to surprise him so?”

“For that you would need to ask your mother. I don't know what she told him, or did.”

\---

Before they left she sent two text messages. One to her second in command at the clinic, Anna, which simply said “Emergency protocol 2 effective immediately.” The second was to Steve, and she wished she had enough time to call him, or at least write something better. As it stood she could only offer him a short “Steve, I'm so sorry but an emergency has come up and I have to leave the area for a while. I wont be able to make it tomorrow, I'm leaving right now. Really, I am sorry and bitterly disappointed. I would ask for a rain check, but I don't know how long I'll be gone. Hopefully I'll see you when I get back. Anna is in charge at the clinic if you need anything. Gx” She sighed, hitting send before switching her phone off and setting it on the hall table. She wouldn't have much use for it where she was headed. Thor looked over at her with a small frown of worry.

“Are you OK?” She looked up at him with a forced smile and shrug.

“I had a date.”

\---

The great hall wasn't much changed from the last time she was there, although both Odin and Frigga had visibly aged since then, sat in their places behind the large table she was so used to standing on the other side of. Thor stood silently just behind her, and they both folded an arm across their chest, clenched fist above their heart and bowed.

“All-Father, Queen Frigga, thank you for seeing me.” Odin eyed her carefully and stood, Gungnir firmly in his grip, and her stomach clenched at the sight of it.

“You are here because Frigga believes you may be of use in getting through to Loki and help him see the error of his ways. I tend to disagree, but as is my want I am indulging my wife. He stays in the basement prison and receives no visitors... Until now. His mouth is sown shut. Once a day he receives one hundred strikes from a cane. He has two hours of light a day. He cannot use his magick.” He spoke in a disinterested monotone, completely matter of fact as if he were simply telling her the time and not the fate of his youngest son. She knew Odin loved his son, he always had, but she struggled to mesh the man standing before her with the loving father she knew. Was this a show for the people around them? Was he pushing his paternal urges down so he could do what he needed to do as king? Or had things changed so much that Odin truly felt nothing for Loki, other than maybe disgust and shame, although she saw neither in his countenance.

“If his mouth is sown shut how does he eat?”

“He does not.” He watched her with eyes narrowed, face set, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, steady her heart and mind. He would be spelled then, to stop him from starving or dying of thirst. Probably contained in whatever spell was holding his magick at bay. When you were as powerful as Odin you could do almost anything. Could, it didn't mean that you should.

“Odin. He is your son.” His eyes narrowed further and she tipped her chin up defiantly, staring him down. She may not be royalty here but she was born a princess and she would be damned if she would behave any other way. She wasn't their subject or staff anymore and while she would treat them with a level of respect, especially Odin and Thor who had over the years she had worked here earned it, it didn't mean she would cower and grovel. She had never cowered, never grovelled, and she refused to start now when so much was at stake. Loki needed her to be strong and fight for him now more than ever, because he certainly wasn't in a position to fight for himself. He may have done wrong, and the burn of his actions in Midgard may still live in her gut, but she knew there was more to this than met the eye. Something was wrong, and it was down to her to find out what.

“And that is why he is not dead. Many would wish it for him. This punishment is fair.”

“This is brutality. Put him to work, make him repent, but beatings and starvation? No, I do not agree that this is fair, or right.” She felt more than heard Thor shuffling nervously behind her and wondered briefly if he agreed with her and that was why he felt awkward, or whether he saw her stay here ending with Odin throwing her out of Asgard again quite unceremoniously right at the very start.

“You always were soft, especially with Loki. I doubt if you ever really disciplined him at all.”

“Of course I disciplined him, in an appropriate way. You can't punish violence with violence, you cannot tell someone not to hit others while hitting them. It's hypocritical, and most lessons are learned not by punishment, but discussion and explanation. The fact of the matter is that under my care and discipline he never once acted out in such a way.”

“He was a child then, the lifetimes have changed him as you will soon see.”

“Lifetimes, or secrets discovered?”

“Watch your tone and choose your words wisely, my indulgence will only go so far.”

“Of course All-Father, my apologies... It is not my place to judge a family by the secrets they keep from each other, or the lengths they will go to to ensure a secret will stay hidden.” She stared at Frigga as she spoke, watching the normally composed queens eye twitch nervously. She had been right when she assumed that Odin still had no idea what had truly transpired that day, and Frigga was still worried it would come out. Too late really for such concerns, when they had much larger things to worry about.

\---

Frigga followed her from the great hall when their meeting finished, and they walked the halls in silence for a moment while Gylla gathered her thoughts and attempted to stop her from saying something cutting that would only get her in trouble, she'd done more than enough of that already today and as tempting as it was it would help no-one at all to start a fight with the queen almost as soon as she had arrived. Still, her curiosity was piqued and she wanted to know as much as she could about what had happened that day.

“How did you do it?”

“What do you mean?” Frigga was careful not to look at her, not to show anything more than the barest hint of interest, although Gylla knew that she was just as interested to see where this conversation was headed.

“Banish me and take my powers, cause Loki to forget what he saw, all without telling Odin what happened? You aren't a mage and there are none powerful enough here except for Odin.”

“Gungnir was enough it would seem.” She remembered the staff in Friggas hands, the tingle of magick in the air, and it made sense.

“I see... You channelled his powers being the Queen in charge while he was in his Odin-Sleep.” Frigga smiled coolly, but there was pride behind it, and a touch of arrogance. Just a touch, but it was enough to make Gylla want to slap her.

“Yes. I'd always wondered until that point quite how much of his power I could really use, it turns out it is all of it.” Her tone was conversational, as if she were merely discussing the weather, not the use of her husbands magick and all the horrible things that came with it. Gyllas stomach knotted, wondering whether or not she really wanted to know the answer to her next question, knowing she must if for no other reason than to brace herself for what Loki thought of her. She was having more and more trouble being around Frigga, knowing as she did what a twisted person she was, knowing what she had done, most of the lies she had told. Knowing that more lives than just hers had been unsettled as a result. She took a deep breath, steadying herself to face the lies that everyone for so long had believed of her.

“What did you tell him, Odin, about my disappearance.”

“The same as I told Thor and everyone else, that you had gone back on your word when you came to work for us, that you had stolen and neglected your duties. The little Aya situation certainly helped that along.” Neglected her duties? That lie stung in a way she hadn't been expecting, and she wondered how many people had honestly believed that she had been in any way neglectful of Loki. She had treated him as she would her own son, loved him deeply. Of all the things Frigga could have said, she had picked the one thing she knew would have hurt Gylla the most. Frigga smirked slightly, and she realised her shock and hurt must have shown on her face. 

“And Loki? That story wouldn't have worked so well on him I think, considering the situation surrounding it all, and his part in it.” Frigga nodded slightly, face betraying the difficulties she'd had in deciding how to deal with Loki after the _incident_. 

“It was complicated. Initially, until I decided quite what to do with him I told him that you had seen his true form and fled in fear, because the Jotun are monsters and you were afraid that he would kill you. That he must never tell anyone what he was, lest they slay him. That only he and I could know that he knew what he truly was. However once I settled on blocking the memory of his Jotun form I knew that wouldn't work... There was a gap in his memory you see, so I told him simply that something had happened and you had seen something in him that scared you so you fled, and that I had hidden the memory from him so as not to trouble him.” Gylla stopped walking, almost frozen, breath caught painfully in her throat, mind reeling. She couldn't even grasp the cruelty of what Frigga had done, what she had made Loki believe, and not for what it made him think of her but what it made him think of himself. To spend his life believing there was something so horribly wrong about him, something so terrible it had caused her to leave and his mother to block his memory to protect him... She couldn't imagine what he had been through, what it had been like, how afraid he must have been. And then... 

“So he knew there was something different about him, something that scared me to leave, but didn't know what it was. Until Jötunheim.” … He saw a monster, the race his people have all but destroyed in war, the ones that frightened children, that his father had brought to their knees for the “evils” they had wrought. His whole life not knowing, only to find out it was the worst secret it could have been. And then he had taken Friggas lie, his knowledge of what he truly was, and drew the only conclusion he could. That she hated him for what he was, that she left because he was a monster, Jötun, the lowest of the low as far as the Aesir were concerned. Thors promises as a child rung in her ears _“I will go to Jötunheim and kill all of the monsters, just like father!_ ” making her shudder at it's implications. She'd heard the Jötuns called monsters, scum, beasts, savages... The hatred of them in Asgard was not hidden, and Thors words, Loki's heritage... 

“Yes... Seeing his skin turn Jötun blue brought the memories back. He remembered it all then. I hadn't bargained on that.” Frigga looked saddened by that, if only a little, and Gylla wondered if it was because her secret had not held, or because of the suffering such a discovery had had on her son, not once but twice, along with the knowledge that twice it had been hidden from him. The pair started walking again, faster this time, as if willing the conversation over by arriving at one of their destinations, even if Gylla didn't know quite where she was headed just yet.

“So many lies Frigga, how can you keep them all in order?”

“I don't think that's any way to talk to your queen.” Her smile was icy, and Gylla responded with an equally cold one of her own before replying, steel in her voice and fire in her eyes.

“You are _not_ my queen. Not any more. Not for a very long time.”

“You were loyal once.” There was a sigh in her voice, as if she was disappointed at the loss of it. 

“You had my respect once.”

“I see.” They walked on in silence for a moment, Gyllas mind swimming with the information she had received, sorting through the myriad of questions she had to find the most important. 

“How did you persuade Odin to allow my return if he believes me a thief and a deserter?” 

“I explained that it was not entirely true.” Frigga shifted uncomfortably, unhappy at having had to admit to a lie, especially to her family. Telling Odin and Thor as much of the truth as she had had burned, admitting to a lie wasn't ever something she liked doing. She was Frigga, the queen, kind and wise and loving, not a liar or a fraud. Well. Publicly anyway. She hadn't even been able to tell the _why_ she had lied, because doing so would reveal other lies and carefully laid plans, jeopardising everything she had worked for. Even if most of it seemed already lost.

“You have to tell him the whole truth eventually.”

“Maybe.”

“You are a cruel woman.”

“I may not be your queen, but don't forget that it is on my orders that you are allowed here at all.” She snorted out a laugh and Frigga narrowed her eyes, threat loud in them, but Gylla found she couldn't really care much in that moment. Too much was happening, too many lies and secrets and demands, and she was tired of it all. Of being dragged back from the life she had made for herself on the whim of the woman who had banished her in the first place. 

“Ah, yes, your orders. Return Gylla, and fix the son I have broken. What do you intend I do?”

“He always trusted you and cared deeply for you in a way I believe he never cared for me. If anyone can help him, it is you.” There was less sorrow in that statement than Gylla expected, as if the Queen had long ago reconciled the fact that as much as her youngest loved her, he loved someone else more. As if it didn't hurt her any more, and she wondered if buried somewhere inside Frigga the truth of it cut like a knife.

“Except he believes I abandoned him.” There was silence for a moment before Frigga softly cleared her throat and looked away. 

“You will be staying in your old room. It has remained untouched since you left.” The turn in the conversation unbalanced her for a moment, and she quickly collected her scattered thoughts, joining Frigga on the new path the conversation was taking. She was surprised that her room was still _hers_ , she would have thought it long ago reclaimed for another use.

“You didn't replace me? Use the room for something else?” Frigga shrugged, mouth a thin line, a stiffness growing in her shoulders that she tried to hide behind a carefully constructed mask of nonchalance. 

“It was decided that Loki was quite old enough to do without a nanny, and he wouldn't let us use the room. When we tried he grew quite inconsolable. I believe he thought you would return, and it would be remiss for someone else to have seemingly taken your place. Only he was allowed in, and a maid once a week to clean it. Everything is as you left it.” Frigga waved her hand vaguely and Gylla was tempted to push the matter, to ask _Why?_ Which seemed to be the only question she could come up with for most of the things she had learned, but seeing the look on the queens face, how much this conversation had taken, she decided to let it all lay. She could always ask Thor anything she needed to know, and while the answer might not be entirely the truth it would no doubt be close enough. 

“I see. Well, I shall change then, and make my way to his cell. Is there anything I should know?”

“No. You already have all the pertinent information.” She dipped her head in a small nod, knowing that 'pertinent' was entirely subjective in this case, and watched as Frigga swept up her skirts and made her way back the way they had already walked, leaving Gylla alone to remember her way around the palace.

She made her way through the familiar halls, working towards the living quarters. She passed door after door, wondering what had happened in their spaces since she had left, what she had missed out on, the jokes and fights and warmth. Guards and staff she recognised nodded at her as she passed, eyeing her alien Midgardian clothes with interest. Much had changed, but at the same time it seemed that nothing had changed at all and she wasn't sure if the thought was something to be relieved by or to fear. Soon enough she was stood at the door to her room, her body having slipped into auto pilot and taken her there of its own accord while her mind wandered. He hand clasped the doorknob nervously, the metal smooth and cold against her palm, before twisting and pushing the door open. 

Frigga hadn't lied or exaggerated, the room was exactly as she had left it down to her nightgown folded neatly on her pillow, one desk drawer not quite closed, a half knitted jumper hanging over the arm of her armchair, book tented and open on the seat. It could have been half an hour since she'd left, not thousands of years. A fire crackled in the large fireplace, warming the slightly chill air, and she walked around, running her fingertips across surfaces, noting how clean everything was, how it honestly didn't seem at all like she'd been gone at all. A flash of cream caught her eye, just a small triangle peeking out from the slightly open desk drawer, and she reached out to open it fully and find out what she'd left there.

She hadn't left anything, but someone else had. The drawer that once held nothing more than a few odds and ends was full of bundles of envelopes, each bundle tied with a green ribbon, each with her name written across the front in the painfully neat script that she knew belonged to Loki, each one neater and neater than the last. She grabbed the pile furthest away, noting the date on the top envelope. These had been written two years after she had left, and there seemed to be one letter for each day of a year, in fact most of the bundles did. She counted them quickly... Ten bundles... Ten years of letters, and a few dozen loose letters that must have been written much later. She undid the ribbon and took the last envelope in her hand. The date was exactly a year after she had been banished, a year before the date on the top envelope... She carefully tore it open, pulling out the paper inside and unfolding it, sitting on her bed to read it.

_Dear Gylla,_

_I have written you a letter every day or a year and given them to mother to send to you, and you have not written back. I know you would never ignore me, so I can only assume that mother is not sending the letters at all. At least I hope that is what it is, because otherwise I am wrong and you are ignoring me, and the thought of that hurts a bit too much._

_I know you will come home one day, so instead of sending the letters to you I have decided to save them for you, to hide them in your room where they will be safe, so that when you return you can read them and see everything that has happened, and you wont have missed anything at all._

_I miss you, very much. I thought by now it would hurt less that you had gone, but if anything it seems to hurt more each day. It's like the pain is getting bigger the longer you are gone. Mother and father do not talk about you anymore, and Thor rarely does unless I start the conversation. Sometimes it seems as if you never really existed at all, and I become convinced I'm going quite mad, but then I say something to Thor and he tells me a story about when we were much younger and I know that I'm not mad, you did exist, and it's all OK._

_Nothing much of any importance has happened. Thor and Sif are still together, you'll be pleased to know, and they have many tales of adventures in battle to tell, along with The Warriors Three. I will leave those stories for Thor to tell you, it's only fair._

_I hope you come home soon._

_All my love,_

_Your Little Prince._

She took a deep breath before standing and placing the envelopes on the top of the desk, she would read them all later, she wanted to know when he last wrote to her, what the last thing he said to her was. Rummaging through the loose envelopes she found one with the latest date, wracking her brain to place it. It was important she knew, something had happened that even she knew about but she couldn't remember what it was. She sat down again, pulling out the letter.

_Gylla,_

_I don't know why I'm writing you this letter... You never came back. It's been so long... So very long and you never came back. I wrote you for eleven years, kept your room ready for you, and you never came back._

_I remember it all. I know what I am, why you left. The touch of a Jotun turned my skin blue and suddenly I remembered._

_I am not really part of this family. Everything makes so much sense now. Why they loved Thor so much more, why I lived in his shadow, never enough. Why I was so different._

_You always told me that you loved me, that even though I was different it didn't mean I was less. But then you saw how different I truly was and you ran. I am a monster. You saw it all those years ago and I can see it now._

_Thor has been banished. Father has fallen into another Odin-Sleep. I can use this to finally prove that I am enough. Mother doesn't know what I have discovered, neither does Thor._

_The only things that ever really mattered to me left a long time ago. Now I am king and I find that I don't much care for the throne. I suppose I only ever wanted it because I knew I would never have it. Maybe it is the same with you. Maybe over the years I have turned you into something more than you were, and only wished for so long that you would come back because I knew deep down you never would._

_I will not write to you again._

_For the last time, with the last of my love,_

_Your Little Prince. Or King, I suppose._

\---

“Oh, my little prince...” The sound of the voice he knew so well, but hadn't heard for centuries, brought him up short. His eyes narrowed and he turned to look to it's source, and there she stood. She had hardly aged, although that could be merely an illusion given her skills with magick and shape shifting. Clapping her hands lightly his cell lit up and she looked him over carefully, worry and fire in her eyes before turning to his jailer.

“You may have forgotten but the man before you is a Prince of Asgard, your care of him has clearly not met requirements. Go. Now. Bring me things for him to bathe and clean clothes, and my medicine bag.” Her voice was steely and he hid a smile, imagining the withering look that no doubt accompanied it, eyes that made it known that consequences of refusing would not be pretty and he remembered well the effect that tone had on anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of it. Never him though, no matter what he did, that angry voice and look had never been turned on him. The guard she address looked back at her, clearly afraid, and quickly disappeared to do as she asked, another taking his place. For men so cruel they certainly scared easily.

“You do not look well little prince, I can only assume that these cuts and bruises are not of your own doing.” She stepped closer to him and knelt beside him, facing him, and lay a gentle hand on a new bruise that coloured his cheek. 

“Shameful. I shall have words with Odin.” She did not call him 'your father' and for that he was grateful, she knew him well enough still he supposed, but a slow burning anger replaced it and he turned away from her, moving his face away from her hands. The guard returned, arms full of the things she'd requested, and she turned her stony gaze to him.

“Leave them by the bed and then leave. Close the door. No-one is to enter until I say so.” He looked like he was going to argue, but a flash of something deeper than anger raced across her face and he did as he was told. Once the door was closed she turned back to Loki, face soft, eyes filled with sadness.

“Come, let's get you cleaned up.” She moved to remove his tunic and he jerked away from her hand, eyes cold and angry. His hands found the hem of his tunic and she nodded in understanding, he didn't want her to do this for him, for whatever reason, pride and pain most likely.

“As you wish.” She watched him with sharp eyes and he carefully slipped his tunic over his head. His whole body ached, and he moved slowly, trying to stop the shaking that never seemed to really stop anymore. She let out a small hiss as his torso came into view, littered with cuts and bruises in various states of healing. His ribs hurt as he stretched to get the top over his head and off completely, and when his arms came into view she muttered a vicious sounding sentence that he was sure was full of impressive cussing that would put most of the men around to shame. All of his body was covered in the marks of abuse, a bruise on his forearm clearly forming the shape of a boot print. He could see a need to reach out and comfort him in some way written in her eyes, and part of him was begging for her to do so, the part that was still her little prince, that knew that if anyone could make things better it was his Gylla. That part however was small and quickly overwhelmed by the part that still seethed at her betrayal, the first betrayal in so many that came after it. The shadows had seemed so much darker without her by his side.

She handed him the washcloth and bowl of water without a word, still watching him closely as he slowly and gently wiped the build up of dirt and grit from his skin, something that felt more wonderful than he could have found words for if he'd been able to use them, and he wondered how he'd taken cleanliness for granted for so long. He carefully reached up and pulled his hair to one side to clean his neck and shoulders when he heard another scathing string of expletives and looked up in time to catch the rage in Gyllas eyes before she hid it away from him. Because she had seen marks on his shoulder and neck that had no right being on him at all, and she could barely contain the anger swelling inside of her like a storm. This, all of this, was beyond Odins punishment she knew, the bruises and boot prints and ill healed broken bones spoke of a more personal malice, and the marks on his shoulders told her it came with a need to humiliate and belittle the only way the abuser knew how. She had seen enough to tell her that Loki's care had been lacking, and that no-one had bothered to look at his treatment even remotely close enough to see that something was very wrong. But she needed to know more, not for her, never for her, but for him and he saw it in her eyes. Saw that she had seen what he had suffered written on his skin and his heart fluttered, fearful. He knew she would want to see it all through his eyes, but he was ashamed. As angry as he was at her he still _loved her_ and didn't want her to see him like that, to have her think less of him for it.

“I need you to show me.” She caught his right hand in hers, holding it gently, looking at his fingers carefully and he knew she could see that two of them sat at slightly the wrong angle, the result of a break that hadn't been properly set. They always ached, those fingers, in the cold dampness of his cell, especially at night, and they were stiff too, leaving him less dexterous than he would like. Not that it mattered, he had little use for it here. He met her gaze and nodded slightly, giving her the permission she wanted to do what she needed to find out exactly what had happened. She could do it easily without his permission he knew, but she would never reach into his mind without it, that much at least remained the same of the woman he had known and loved in his youth.

She reached out a hand carefully, avoiding cuts and bruises as she lay her fingertips at his temple, and her eyes fluttered closed. He could feel her in his mind, carefully making her way through to find what she was looking for, and he found his own eyes shutting at their gentle caress. Suddenly he felt barriers drop down, not of his own creation, and he knew she had found what she was looking for and was attempting to stop him having to live through them as she did. She was protecting him, as she always had done, and he almost smiled. Almost, until he heard her cry out, and his eyes flew open to see what was happening. Her face was twisted in pain, fear, and he felt sick to his stomach at being the cause of it. Her eyes were still closed but tears crept out and slid down her cheek, silent sobs making her body shake, but she didn't let go, didn't leave the memories alone. She suffered, as he had suffered, for him.

\---

She didn't knock, didn't wait for permission to enter the Great Hall where she knew Frigga, Odin and Thor still sat. She couldn't, there wasn't enough of her left free to think of formalities and order, too much was lost to the angry tempest inside her, the rest was carefully holding her together the best it could. Keeping her upright, keeping her moving despite what she had seen and felt moments before, knelt on the cold stone floor in Loki's cell, fighting through tears as she lived what he had lived. She threw the heavy doors open with a force she didn't know she had still in her, storming into the center of the room, facing Loki's kin and wondering not for the first time how none of them had known what had happened. His clothes only hid so much. The three quickly rose from their seats, looking at her as if she'd grown a second head, and she knew it was only shock that stopped any of them from doing her harm. Guards from outside the room rushed in behind her, muttering apologies that no-one heard.

“Gylla! What do you think you are doing!?” It was Thor who spoke, voice ringing with confusion, but Odin stood, Gungnir held firm in his hand, watching her with cold eyes. It was him she turned to, him she addressed, trying to keep her voice level, to not shout or shake.

“I have come to speak to you about the treatment your son has received at the hand of his primary guard. Then I would speak to him about it.” She watched his eye narrow, mouth tighten just slightly, and felt for a minute like guilt washed across the lines of his face. Had he known?

“What do you mean?”

“He has taken it upon himself to inflict his own... Unique... Brand of justice on Loki while he has been detained and unable to defend himself or speak of his actions.” She felt bile rise in her throat as she thought about what had been done, and didn't bother to hid the anger and revulsion on her face. She looked at the three of them, Loki's family stood before her and saw pain, concern and anger written across two faces. Frigga looked for all the world like she was trying to puzzle Gylla out, there was no trace of anything else on her features, as if they were talking about a stranger, not her own son. Yet it was she who spoke next, voice calm and level, politely interested.

“You are sure.”

“I have seen it.”

“Then he will be called here tonight and you will speak for Loki and the guard will speak for himself. We will decide from there.” Her heart skipped, and she knew she couldn't allow that to happen, couldn't allow the entirety of the brutality Loki had suffered to known to his family. She knew how the Aesir worked, how they would view the situation, view Loki. He would be less to them, less even than he was now if they knew, and for the entire population of Asgard to know? No, it would destroy him completely. It couldn't come to pass, she would have to deal with it herself. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath

“No. Much cannot be spoken of, and I will speak to him myself, here and now.”

“That is not how we do things here.”

“It is how I do them. Bring me Loki's guard.”

“Gylla... We have to know what he accused of, his crimes.”

“If you wish to know of his crimes you need only look at your son, it's plain enough to see on his skin and bones. Bring him to me! **Now!** ” Her voice was filled with rage, boiling and burning, and they knew it, that voice, that anger. It was the kind of rage that would burn down the world if it had to. They'd forgotten, somehow, her passion when it came to Loki, how her world seemed to spin just for him and how she would stop at nothing to protect or defend him. She may not have seen him in a long while, but that hadn't changed anything, not really, not for her. Odin studied her for a long moment, weighing his options, wondering on her insistence that a trial not be held and he knew, deep down, that it was not because she was trying to pervert justice. He had been told many things of her over the years, but standing before him was the woman he had trusted to care for his son, the woman he knew would do anything for him, to keep him safe. Memories stirred deep in his mind, and he knew her. If she was so adamant that what he did was not implicitly told to everyone, then it must be something serious, something she feels she must protect everyone from. He nodded, slowly, and looked to the guards stood behind her.

“Bring him. Quickly.” The guards nodded and left, and Odin looked to Gylla. She dipped her head stiffly in a nod of thanks, stomach knotted. It didn't take long for the two guards to appear with a third walking calmly between them, an easy smirk on his lips. Gylla straightened, squaring her shoulders as the strangely familiar man stopped to stand in front of her, not bothering to hide his amusement. He knew her, she could see it in his eyes, and he had no love for her, but she couldn't quite place him, only knew that where ever it was she knew him from it wasn't good. She took a deep breath, levelling him with her hardest stare, knowing somehow that he wouldn't buckle beneath it like most. She resisted the urge to circle him, to pace around him like a predator circling her prey, instead standing motionless in front of him.

“You are Loki's primary guard, are you not.”

“Yes, _ma'am._ ” She stiffened at the derision in his voice, the knowing gleam in his eyes, and she cursed having seen so many faces in her life that his was lost to her. She laced her fingers behind her back, watching as he nonchalantly picked at his nails, probably assuming he was safe from any kind of retribution for his actions by the presence of Loki's family so close, knowing they wouldn't know, knowing that while they watched with interest and confusion she could never put his actions into words.

“What is your name?”

“Regin, _ma'am._ ” _Think Gylla, you know that name, know that face._ She still couldn't place him, not even with a name, and she was growing more angry and more frustrated by the second, his dismissive nature and careless attitude combining with everything she knew and didn't know to bubbling in the pit of her stomach. 

“And your job?”

“To make sure the prisoner doesn't escape.”

“That is your only job, yes?” His smirk grew, cold and vicious, and she suppressed a shudder at the sight of it, at the memories she now held that connected with a similar smirk.

“Yes.”

“Wipe that smile off of your face. Your job is not to inflict punishment?”

“No.”

“I said wipe that smile off of your face, boy, before I do so for you.” Instead of doing as she asked his smirk deepened and before he could react her hand snapped out, striking him with enough force to make his head whip to one side.

“You and the boy have humiliated me once too often woman, I wont see you do it again.” And then it hit her, why his face seemed so familiar, why he was so vile and cruel. The guard she had caught spanking the prince, who had fallen foul of one too many tricks and pranks, who took each one as a personal slight and lashed out accordingly, only to be met with swift reprimand from herself. Who knew what had happened since she was last here to enrage him further, to make him so bitter and angry, because the damage he inflicted couldn't be retribution for the actions of a child. Retribution they were though, punishment dolled out for whatever he had suffered, his own personal justice that he had no doubt been waiting centuries to inflict. The look of smug self assurance on his face only added to the anger in her chest, because he knew there was no way she could fully explain the extent of his crimes against Loki without further tarnishing him in the eyes of his family... He would be seen as weak and tainted, less of a man despite the situation. The guard knew all of this and assumed he was safe, but he forgot about Gylla, about what she had done before to him and planned on doing again, in a way. He had always enjoyed inflicting pain on others, those that couldn't defend themselves... She'd seen it in his eyes then and she saw it there again, but no more.

“You...” With that she grabbed his face in her hands, holding tight, and poured everything he had done to Loki back into him. Every hand laid on skin ( _Not so funny now, is it, Silvertongue?_ ), he felt it. Every strike ( _Let me show you pain, Backbiter._ ), he felt it. Every stinging pain ( _You're pathetic, a waste of skin._ ), he felt it. Every burn of shame ( _I can do what I like to you,_ Prince _, and I will. It's a shame I can't put that pretty mouth and talented tongue to better use._ ), he lived it. He heard his own mocking voice whispering in his ears ( _You will beg me for it Liesmith, I will make you beg like the worthless whore you are._ ), felt his own teeth biting into skin hard enough to draw blood ( _You are nothing more than a toy for me to play with until I have no more use of you._ ), felt bones break under shoes ( _No-one is coming. No-one cares enough to protect you now._ ). He screamed, long and loud and raw until he could only sob and still he felt it all. Every torturous action he had inflicted on her little prince, he felt it, months of it all rolled into one. He felt the fear and the pain and the sadness and the despair, the longing for it all just to be over. But most of all he felt the shame he had made Loki feel every time he took what wasn't his to take, every time he laughed cruelly as he pulled on long black hair and forced himself on a man who could not defend himself.

\---

She had left the hall without a word when she was done, leaving the guard a crumpled, sobbing heap on the floor for someone else to clean up. She had done what was needed, and there was no doubt now that he would never be on Loki's guard detail again. In fact, she would go so far as to say he would never even walk the same halls as Loki again. She heard heavy footsteps behind her and stopped, turning to face Thor as he made his way towards her.

“I would walk with you?”

“As you wish.” She nodded and started walking towards the private rooms, towards her own room and the comfort of a long bath and a much needed sleep. Thor fell in step beside her, body tense with things unspoken. It was a while before he found his voice and started speak of what was on his mind.

“My brother, how is he?”

“Well enough, all things considered.” She didn't mean to sound terse, but exhaustion had left her irritable and the things she had seen seemed to have hollowed her out, sucking away her good will.

“And the guard?”

“Less so, I believe.” She avoided the unspoken question, the request to know what had passed that lead her to seemingly break one of the staff, to bear down her wrath against him. She know he wondered what she had done, why she had done it, but she simply couldn't tell him. Wouldn't. It wasn't her place.

“Gylla...” His voice held warning and he stopped, taking her arm to stop her and turn her to face him. She looked up at his face, worry and guilt written plainly across his features, and frowned lightly, shrugging off his hand.

“It is not my place to tell you what your brother has been subjected to, Thor. I would never dare to defy his trust in such a way, but I will tell you that the things he had been through are beyond anything Odin ordered. His sentence was passed by your father, but that guard passed a sentence of his own based on past slights and carried out his own punishments. You brother did not deserve what happened to him. He will heal, but it will be slowly.”

“I am shamed that I did not know he was being mistreated. I should have seen it, and stopped it myself.” He wrung his hands, looking down at his shoes as he spoke, and he looked so much like his younger self learning that Loki had hidden himself away because people teased him ( _I didn't know it upset him, we were only joking._ ) that she had to stop from treating him as such. He was an adult now, and he had missed important things, but she knew it wasn't all his fault. Loki himself probably hid a great deal of his ills from his family, as he would have done with her had she let him. Either was there was nothing to be done about it now, guilt and shame would help no-one at all. It wouldn't change anything.

“The past is gone Thor... Many should have seen, at least what Loki would allow. Maybe he believed it all to be part of his punishment? I do not know. I do know there is something wrong with him, something I briefly touched in his mind. It scares me.” Her voice was soft, kind, the same tone she had used so many times when he was a child and had messed up in some way and felt terrible about it, and she rested a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Madness and evil. That is what father believes.” _But I'm not so sure_ seemed to be the unspoken end to his sentence, uncertainty written in his eyes as they watched each other, weighing the others opinion, trying to find footing on unsteady ground.

“No. It's not that. Madness, maybe some, but not evil. I will tell you what I can when I learn it, but I must tell you Thor, I will not betray him or any trust he puts in me. Once he can talk to me, if it is a secret he tells me and asks me to keep, then I will. Unless it endangers others to do so.”

“Once he can talk?” His eyes widened, and she let her hand slip from his shoulder with a nod.

“I have pushed my luck quite enough today in making requests of the All-Father, but I shall be asking for Loki's tongue to be freed. It helps no-one that he cannot speak.” She turned and started walking again, voice gentle, and Thor followed, uncertain about her plans and what good they could do anyone. As much as he loved his brother and couldn't believe him evil, he knew him well enough to know that lying came easily to him, and he wouldn't think twice about manipulating anyone he needed to to serve himself.

“He cannot lie either.”

“Nor can he protest, or tell of mistreatment, or argue his case.”

“Yes... That is true. Maybe if he had been free to speak what happened to him may have been avoided.”

“Would you have believed him if he had told you?” She turned to look at him as she spoke, less accusation in her voice than he expected, honest curiosity in her eyes.

“Yes, I think I would have. I don't know about anyone else... Maybe father would have too, or maybe he would have thought the words lies by a man trying to escape his punishment. We will never know.”

“No. No we never will.” They walked for a few moments in silence, each lost in their thoughts. They neared Gyllas room, both looking at the closed door of Loki's bedroom with sad frowns on their faces, wondering what would have happened if only things had been even slightly different. They stopped outside her door, turning to face each other with a formality that came from a small sense of discomfort at the events of the day, and Thor placed a fist over his heart and bowed deeply.

“Well, goodnight Gylla. Thank you for returning with me. For helping.”

“I don't think I ever could have done anything less. Goodnight Thor.”


	3. Chapter Two: Find Your Feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it really been a year and a half since I updated this? Time flies when life is in flux. Much has changed in my personal life, and I cannot promise regular updates here at all, but I think I can safely say it wont be a year until I update again. That shit cray. I hope you enjoy this instalment.

The morning came with a lazy sunrise more beautiful than anything she had seen on Midgard. Pinks, golds, purples, oranges and blues swam across the sky as the sun traced a languid, elegant path, and she watched it from the armchair she had pulled up close to the bay window the night before, thick wool blanket covering her lap, bundles of letters open and read scattered around her. She hadn't slept, the shock of everything she had seen and learned so far keeping her uncomfortably awake, so instead she had read by the moonlight that had bathed the room in a soft glow, for all the world looking as if she hadn't left this place. This was her home, maybe, or at least it had been for long enough that she managed to slip almost completely back into it. She had found her old clothes still in the wardrobe and drawers, her hairbrush on the side in her bathroom beside her toothbrush and bobby pins. She hadn't been able to bring herself to wear her old dresses, the material thick and heavy in her hands, making her feel like wearing them would constrict and restrict. They hadn't felt that way before, but then again she hadn't known the freedom of trousers over skirts. She could hardly walk around in her Midgardian clothes though, so for now her dresses and skirts would have to do until she could find her way to a tailor or market stall that would sell what she was after.

She sighed, pushing the blanket from her lap roughly, letting it fall heavily on the floor without much care for where it landed or how before pushing herself stiffly up from the chair and stretching slowly, feeling each pinch and pull of her muscles and joints left over from a night curled in a chair instead of laying on a bed.

\---

Raised voices outside his door snap his attention from the waking nightmare he often found himself in, and he strained his ears to hear what was going on, who was coming, what they wanted with him.

“I'm sorry ma'am, but you can't bring those in here. Orders.” The voice of his newest jailer, one he doesn't recognise, sounds more panicked than it should, and he fought back an involuntary smile, knowing how much it still hurts to move his lips, knows the painful tug of the string.

“Oh don't be such a drama queen, what harm will they do? Open the door now.”

“Drama queen..? What? No... Stop that! You can't go in there with those!”

“Son...” Her voiced dropped too low for him to hear no matter how he strained, and he cursed his lack of magick, knowing that with it he could have listened in with ease. It was another reminder of how far he had fallen, how much he had lost. The door clicked open, and he adopted his usual pose of relaxed indifference, watching Gylla as she entered dragging a chair and her knitting bag in with her, noting the look of fear and discomfort on the guards face. Her needles then, that's what they'd been arguing about. The door shut heavily behind her and he watched as she manhandled the chair next to his bed, putting her knitting bag on the floor between them and pulling out a half finished project before turning to look at him with a small knowing smile.

“I assume I can trust that you wont steal one of my needles and run it through my neck.” He glared at her and rolled his eyes, turning away from her as her smile deepened and she settled into the chair. To be honest part of him wanted to do just that, just to prove whatever point she'd made to be able to bring her stupid needles in here wrong, to prove that he wasn't to be trifled with, but the other part of him was curious. Curious about why she was even here in the first place, what she wanted to achieve, and that part was bigger, drowning the rest out. “No, I didn't think so. The same goes for everyone else I assume.”

They sat in silence, the click of her needles the only noise aside from their breathing, and he found himself soothed by it, by the familiarity of it all, enjoying the change in his routine, the break of smothering silence with background noise. His mind drifted, remembering times when he had felt like his world was ending only to find comfort in the company of Gylla, company that was nothing more than just the two of them together in almost silence, carrying on about their days, her waiting patiently for him to speak and share his pain. That wouldn't happen now though, even if he could speak to her, could confess his sins and the slights against him he wouldn't. Wouldn't give any of the the satisfaction of hearing him cry and bemoan the life he now lived, had been living since Jötunheim. Wouldn't let them know what he had seen, suffered, since his fall. Wouldn't give them the satisfaction of thinking they knew his life and could fix what ailed him. They couldn't, he wouldn't let them, didn't want them to.

“Did you know I have been living in Midgard since the last time I saw you?” He turned and looked at her, watching her with narrowed eyes as she sat nonchalantly, her own eyes not leaving her knitting, a small smile on her face. “Midgard is a lovely place, different to all of the other realms, although I suppose it's more like Vanaheim than Asgard. Even at it's most flashy and glamorous it's still more earthy than here. Maybe that's why I like it so much? The opulence of Asgard has always been too much for me. New York though, that is my city, of all of the cities I have seen grow over the years, I have always come back to New York. I can't really explain it, not in a way that doesn't sound clichéd, why I love it so dearly. Maybe it's how much, in the right light, the towering glass buildings can look so much like this very palace. New York, I'm sure you'll remember from your... Visit... It's one of the biggest, boldest cities. It wears it's power and wealth and ingenuity like a shield, hiding the soft realness of the people living in it under its protection. Midgard is the best of both realms, I was lucky to be sent there, surely in Vanaheim I would have been put to death, and I had no choice to stay here.” He wanted to tell her to stop, to tell him more, to leave, and to stay, his mind a jumble of contradictory needs. The events of the day before only added to his confusion, to the feeling of his self being torn in two. He knew from the whispers of the guards that Gylla had done something to the man who had abused him for the last few months, had broken him down in front of Thor, Odin and Frigga in the center of the Great Hall, had moved like a fury and fought against everything he had suffered. The way she always had before, the way he knew deep down he needed her to. But he couldn't let them, any of them, believe him to be anything other than Loki the Liar, and he wouldn't let his so called family see the truth of what he'd suffered before the invasion, after they had so easily abandoned him. He eyed Gylla the way a cat eyed a mouse, watching for a slip in the mask he was sure she was wearing, a crack in the façade of care and concern for him. He hadn't known she was on Midgard when he had invaded, least of all that she was in the same city, and it sat uncomfortably with him that he had put her in harms way, he couldn't deny it. It burned him that she still saw her discovery of his true self as a reason to flee, that she had no choice but to do so, probably out of fear. He had been a child, he had loved her, he never would have hurt her, Jötun scum or no.

“Once, many years ago when civilisations on Midgard were still young and growing, I met a young man who reminded me of you, my little prince.” His eyes narrowed at her use of his childhood nickname, at the way it tugged at his heart and made him want to reach for her and nestle into the comfort of her embrace, but she didn't see it, so focused on her knitting in a way he knew she had no need to be. “He had the same pale skin and shock of dark hair, the same honest countenance. To be honest I saw you in the faces of so many children on Midgard over the years, heard your laughter on the air in summer evenings... I was searching for you in all the wrong places, you were here with your family, far from me. But this young man in particular reminded me strongly of you, and looking at it now he was more like you than I ever realised at the time. A brilliant young man, so very smart but so lost... He was put to death a few years after I last saw him, when I'd had to move on to a new place to stem the flow of questions about why I didn't seem to age. A heretic they called him, his ideas of the world went against the views of the time. He was right, of course, they later discovered... Still. So sad to see someone so brilliant and so bright made to suffer for the ignorance of others. I should have taken him with me... So many what ifs, hindsight is such a terrible thing really.” She sighed long and deep, eyes watery and sad, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with a need to comfort _her_ , something he had never had to do before. He'd never seen her so visibly tired and vulnerable, and he wondered if she'd replaced him with the young boy she spoke of, if any of her regret were for the things that had happened on that day in his room so long ago. He couldn't ask though, and probably wouldn't even if he could. She'd stopped being his a long time ago, and he didn't think he could bare the truth of her disgust in him, or the lies to say that she had done the best for him and that she missed him, he'd heard more than enough of that already. He turned to curl himself up into the corner, when she caught his fingers in hers, once again looking at their unnatural angle.

“Let me fix these for you, you'll never be able to work a spell with ease if I leave them crooked and stiff.” He frowned, knowing in his heart of hearts that he won't be given a chance to get his magic back, but he had to admit to missing being able to weave the delicate runes he was so used to in the air, even if it did nothing to do so. He nodded stiffly and she gave him a small smile, cupping his fingers in both her hands and closing her eyes, brows furrowed in concentration. He braced himself, and a warmth that was so welcome flowed through his hand, turning to a burn when it touched damage. A sudden pain, almost as bad as their initial break, flashed through his fingers and he sucked in his breath, hissing lowly and fighting a blinding flash of white across his vision. As soon as it started the pain was gone, replaced once again with a low warmth, and moments later she released his hand with an uneasy smile.

“I'm sorry for the pain my little prince, I have only just been granted the use of my magick again after many years, and I'm obviously not as adept as I once was.” He nodded his thanks absent-mindedly, flexing his fingers and marvelling at their sudden dexterity, their strength and straightness. He noted too, her words and filed them away with other things she had uttered for inspection later, puzzle pieces that would maybe help put together a picture of what had happened many moons ago, words that seemed to fall without thought that said more than any carefully crafted speech could, unless it was all part of a greater trick. He didn't know yet, but hopefully would soon have a better understanding of everything. He was the god of lies, the trickster, and he wasn't going to be out played by his “family” or old caretaker. If there was a game at play he would discover it, and then he would destroy it before they even realised he knew.

“I know you will never believe me, but I missed you so much. I can't be the one to explain everything that happened to you, but I hope that you will soon learn the truth, and we can start again. You have always been like a son to me, and I never stopped loving you.” Her fingers were stiff and clumsy, her heart racing, stomach rolling and head spinning. She felt drunk, disoriented, after using so much magick so soon after it's return, in truth she should have waited a week at least before taking on such large spells, working towards them with smaller spells to re-familiarise her body and mind with the toll magick took, but seeing the state of her little prince she found she couldn't stop herself. Truthfully, she had massively over exerted herself and knew that the next few days at least would be uncomfortable at best. She looked over at him, watching him watch her with his guarded eyes, and wished for the thousandth time that day that she could see more of the boy he used to be in him, instead of this broken shell. The door to the cell opened, and a guard stepped in, offering a small bow in her direction. He was one of the old staff, back from her time here, and he had always been kind and respectful of her. When she had left he had refused to believe the stories told about her, although he had kept that to himself, and he was glad she had returned.

“I'm afraid your time is up Gylla, and the All-Father requests you see him in his private study.” She nodded, standing shakily, before gathering her things.

“Of course. I will be leaving the chair. I don't see the point in dragging it in and out every day, and if he has not hurt anyone with that... Footstool, I doubt he will do so with the chair.” She glanced fleetingly in his direction at the last part of the sentence, letting him know that it was a veiled warning and a peace offering rolled into one. It wasn't a test, she would never test him, instead it was her way of telling him to behave, and more rewards would come his way. She was telling him, and everyone else, that she trusted him, and that trust made his chest sting with longing. She hid the stumble in her step well enough that neither of her companions seemed to notice it, and for that she was glad.

\---

She knocked gently on the heavy oak door of Odins study, one hand on the door frame to help keep herself upright and steady as her vision continued to swim and her legs shook. The two guards standing sentry only offered her cursory glances and small nods, doing what they did best and not asking questions or showing interest in the happenings around this room. They had seen people in much worse states than her, and she was holding herself together well enough that they didn't see much to worry about. They had been given this job, one that came with much secrecy and confidentiality, mainly for their ability to do their jobs without question, and to ignore even the most unusual of activity. The door clicked open to reveal the All-Father, in more casual clothes than usual (For Asgard anyway) eyes tired. He looked older than she'd ever seen him in that moment, in his safe space where he didn't have to hold up the mask of leader. He smiled warmly at the sight of her, eyes taking in the pallor of her skin, the thin sheen of sweat covering her, the shake in her muscles. He opened the door wider, beckoning her inside.

“Gylla, thank you for seeing me.”

“All-Father.” She bowed, stiff and unsteady. Her head spun, and she stumbled slightly, finding Odins hand on her arm to steady her and his face close to hers, peering at her with concern.

“You seem weakened... A side effect of using your magick after so long I assume.” He helped her slowly into the room, not mentioning how she leant into him slightly, how she seemed to focus so completely on her feet to stop herself from stumbling. Of course, being Gylla, she still took in her surroundings, noticing how, despite the low light, that the room had changed little from the last time she'd seen it. The desk still stood proud under the towering window, quills and ink pots joining scattered papers on the cluttered surface. Floor to ceiling bookshelves in the alcoves either side of the large fireplace were filled with leather bound volumes, portraits of the family lined the free walls, and two deep armchairs sat facing the fire, a side table between them.

“Yes, I'm unused to it.”

“And you have healed Loki?”

“Just a small thing, yes. His fingers, poorly healed as they were they would be next to useless.”

“A good decision.” He pulled out a chair beside the roaring fire for her, helping her carefully into it before he moved to sit across from her, eye on the fire. “I have asked you here to apologise to you.”

“There is no need for apologies All-Father.”

“Please, call me Odin. There is much need I'm afraid... It has been a long time since you were with us, and much has changed. My love for my family has not, however, and I do not wish for you to believe my treatment and punishment of Loki does not affect me the way it should any loving father. It pains me to see him the way he is, and to know that my hand has caused him pain. This is a sentiment I could not speak when you arrived however, we had an audience, and it would not do for my people to believe me to be anything less than an unwaveringly strong and sure leader.” She didn't watch him, instead focussed on the flames, leaning towards them slightly, letting the heat wash over her. She hadn't realised how cold she was until she was confronted by warmth. She stretched her hands forward, rubbing them together, warming them, mulling his words over. She could feel his eyes on her, knew he was scanning her face for a trace of what she was thinking, trying to work her out.

“I understand. I do not judge your love for Loki, you have always done right by him, supported him. I know that nothing could change that in you, although your act was very convincing, it had me thrown for a small moment. There must be something else you wished to speak of, to call me here?”

“Yes. When you left... I was under the impression you had done our family wrong, I have held that thought for many years, and it is taking a lot to adjust to the knowledge that something else happened that day to cause you to leave. The more I see you, the more I remember the woman you were, and I know calling you home was the right course of action. I ask that you tell me what transpired that day to cause you to leave.”

“I didn't leave of my own choosing, that much I can tell you, but this is a conversation you must have with the queen. She is the one that can tell you everything you need to know, and hopefully do so in a more honest way. Many secrets have slumbered in this palace, it is time they were woken. The truth must out, but it isn't my family, so it isn't my truth to tell.”

“Gylla, you have always been family to us. I fear however that Frigga will be as loose with the truth as she has been to this point. I don't know who she's protecting, or what, but there is something remiss in this all. Have I reason to doubt her?”

“May I be frank, Odin?” She turned, finally, to face him, watching him closely, weighing her options while she waited for his reply.

“Of course, I feel someone in this palace must be.”

“You should speak to Frigga, see what she will tell you which I hope will be the truth, and then we should speak again. At that point, hopefully, we can decide what to do going forward. This truth may not be one you wish to hear, but unfortunately I fear you must anyway. The only way to truly understand what has happened here over the years is to understand what Frigga has done.” He nodded slowly, and they both relaxed back into their chairs, conversation over for now, just enjoying each others company and the companionable silence that had often littered their interactions in the past.

\---

It was late when she woke the next day, the thick curtains stopping the bright noon sun from waking her, allowing her body to get the rest it needed to start to heal and replenish itself after too much magick used in the past few days. She felt much better, stronger, as she stretched and yawned, twisting under the covers in contentment as she attempted to stretch out every inch of her tired and aching muscles. It would be a while before she was back to full strength, but she was getting there. She let her eyes flutter open, and let out a shocked gasp at the knowledge that her room was not empty. Watching her with narrowed eyes and pursed lips was Frigga, in one of the armchairs that had been sat in front of the fire, now spun around to face the bed. Pulling the covers up to cover herself, although she was covered in a night dress, Gylla struggled to sit, eyeing the scene in front of her with care. That Frigga had entered her room without permission, had waited for her to wake, had moved the furniture around, said that she was on a mission to put her on the back foot from the off. She was flexing her muscles, showing her power and control in the castle, her disregard for Gylla, her arrogance. That then should be her downfall.

“Queen or not I believe it's good manners to knock and wait for permission to enter the rooms of someone else.” Friggas eyes narrowed and Gylla couldn't help but smirk slightly at the way she seemed to have switched the power ever so slightly with just one sentence. Hopefully her initial shock hadn't been too obvious, and she could maintain a façade of casual indifference, much like the one her Little Prince wore so easily.

“This is my home Gylla, you are but a visitor here, I shall come and go as I please.” Frigga sank back in the chair as if she had won a huge battle, her face a mask of smug self assuredness. Gylla relaxed her hand clutching the cover, not enough to let it slip or drop it, but enough that her knuckles probably weren't white.

“And yet you were never allowed to enter when I was banished, what makes you think things have changed all that much now I have returned?”

“Much has changed.” Friggas grin turned vicious, and the simple sentence was loaded with threats, but Gylla couldn't, wouldn't let her try and intimidate her. She'd come too far, seen too much, and was finally reunited with the family she had missed for so long. She narrowed her eyes at Frigga, making her displeasure at the continued intrusion known.

“And at the same time, not enough. I wish to bathe, hurry and say what you came here to say.” Frigga stiffened, before relaxing back as she started to speak.

“That's no way to talk to a Queen, watch that I don't take your voice as Odin took Loki's.”

“You would be hard pushed to do so, believe me. Without Gungnir you have no way of overpowering me.” This whole encounter was becoming more confrontational than Gylla had anticipated, Frigga seeming to relax in the knowledge that in this room she was free to say what she liked without fear of being overheard, the hatred and rage that bubbled under the surface of their interactions up to this point coming closer to the surface.

“What did you speak of with Odin last night?”

“That is none of your concern, it is between myself and the All-Father.”

“Have you been spilling secrets Gylla? Are you attempting to turn my family against me? I visited with Loki, and the hatred in his eyes... You've corrupted him, and have sowed a seed with Thor, I will not allow you to take my family from me.” Desperation laced her voice, and finally Gylla felt a shock of fear. Desperate people will do anything, and if Frigga was convinced that she was trying to turn her family against her, she could do anything, again, to stop that from happening.

“Do you regret calling me back?” It wasn't a statement meant to provoke, her voice was soft and questioning, and she watched Frigga with interested eyes.

“So far your usefulness has outstripped the danger you pose. So no, not yet I do not.”

“I'm not attempting to turn your family against you, although that same thing may happen without my influence once the truth is out. You will have no-one to blame but yourself if it does. Maybe Thor and Odin will be more forgiving than myself, and possibly Loki.” She was tired, and simply wanted this whole unwelcome start to her morning to be over. She didn't want to continue this morning as a fight, and she softened herself as she spoke, not caring if it made her seem weak, or submissive. She just wanted to be able to start her day.

“Does he hate me?” The crack in Friggas voice as she uttered the question almost, almost, broke Gyllas heart. She knew, of course, that if nothing else Frigga loved her children, and the thought that her son may hate her...? Gylla couldn't even imagine the heartbreak. She didn't need to, Thor and Loki may not be her children by birth, but she thought of them as children just the same. Frigga had ripped them from her, and the hate in her Little Prince's eyes when he looked at her... She knew all too well the pain Frigga faced, but knowing why she could know it hardened her newly softened edges.

“Loki? I don't know.”

“ **Liar!** You can see into his mind, you _have_ seen into his mind!” Frigga was out of her chair as she shouted, face a mask of rage, and it took all of Gylla's strength not to jump, to react at all. She narrowed her eyes, staring at the queen, wishing that for one moment things could be simple, that she could be back on Midgard, running her clinic and going on a date with her gorgeous volunteer.

“I didn't look for that, his trust is something I treasure and always have, I would never betray it for such a petty reason. That is where you and I differ the most.” It was a comment meant to provoke, uttered in a throwaway tone, and she knew that she shouldn't poke and prod Frigga, particularly now when she was clearly so worked up, but she couldn't help it. She was done with all of this, with Frigga's lies and threats and betrayals.

“Watch your tongue.”

“You have over stayed your welcome Frigga.” She waved her free hand in the direction of the door with a sigh, signalling the end of her patience and the conversation. Frigga straightened, pulling the frayed edges of herself back together, slipping the mask of calm and kind Matriarch back on with polished ease before turning her steely gaze to Gylla once more.

“I will leave, but only as you have no more use to me. Do not think you have won anything here Gylla, and do not think my invitation for your return was not without it's limitations. I wont hesitate to have you removed if I find your presence more of a risk than I am willing to take.” Frigga turned to leave, skirts flowing dramatically around her ankles in a way that seemed aided by a flick of her hand that most people would have missed. Always one to make a dramatic exit.

“Be careful Frigga, you may find your hands suitably tied if you aren't careful. Maybe you should attempt honesty and openness instead of threats and plots. Much is on the horizon, be sure you're on the right side of it all. As much as I cannot stand you, you should be with your family when they need you, not on the side of the enemy.” The queen stopped for a moment as Gylla spoke, her head raising slightly but she didn't turn, didn't respond. Gylla hoped she got the message, really heard it, but she couldn't be sure. Some people would only head what they wanted to hear, and Frigga was one of them.


	4. A note about the canon now more movies and a TV show have come out.

Obviously, since the release of Thor 2, this story is no longer canon. I want, however, to bring as much of the canon as I can into it, but I will be completely ignoring Thor 2 and also Iron Man 3 (because fuck that film, seriously, there is so much in it I'm pissed about even though I like it, I still also hate it)... I'll leave a note in the summery if the chapter (later ones) involve a spoiler for something you may not have seen.

I want to be able to bring some of the SHIELD/ Winter Soldier canon in, because it's awesome, as well as Guardians, because holy new characters Batman! Of course, it'll just use bits of the canon/ story/ characters instead of following the story 100% because where would I manage to cram all of this if I did that!?!

Anyway... New chapter is upcoming, things are happening, I'm working out what I'm doing now (had to change some plans because of Winter Solider and SHIELD and wanting to include some of the things from that into this), and I hope you'll enjoy it!

Also, as a side note, if anyone reading this feels like helping out someone trying to get together research for a book, I'm one such person. I've created a survey online about [Monogamy, Sex & Relationships](http://kwiksurveys.com/app/rendersurvey.asp?sid=6t2pstmlopifzub399347) and I need as many people to fill it out as possible. It's completely anonymous, and it would really, really, really be awesome if as many people as possible completed it so I can get a huge data pool to dive into. :D 

Thanks guys!


	5. Chapter Three: What Goes Up...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of drama... Because I'm evil like that. Heh. This is a LONG one. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a personal note, I'm going through a rather difficult time and have set up a GoFundMe account to try and raise money to help ease it... If you can, please donate, if not, please share: http://www.gofundme.com/etfho8

She made her way down to the training hall on slightly steadier feet than she had walked on the day before. It was probably unwise to be going to work out in her state, but she knew that it was important to keep up her fitness routine as best she could now, to keep her strong in body and mind. It would help her heal, and keep her occupied, two things she desperately needed after the week she'd had so far. It was early, and she'd passed only staff quietly making their way through the morning routine as she'd carefully made her way to the castle's equivalent of a gym, leading her to believe that she would be the only one there. Exercising in peace, particularly in the state she felt she was in, seemed ideal.

She was wrong.

As she entered the room she could hear the sound of someone training, and her heart sank. She'd kept herself away from most of the populace of Asgard, not knowing how they felt about her, and here she was about to come face to face with at least one of them. She didn't feel prepared, she had only been back a few days, had no idea what they had been told about her, how much they blamed her for Loki's eventual breakdown and attacks. She hesitated at the door, peering into the room to see who it was she would be facing, before an involuntary smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. It was Lady Sif, grown into a strong young woman, who ran drills against invisible and stuffed opponents. Once she had been Thors lover, although if news clips had told Gylla anything it was unlikely that was still the case, Thor wasn't the kind of man to cheat on his partner, especially after they had just fought a battle together. They still seemed to be friends however, and for that Gylla was pleased, although she wondered at the circumstances of them breaking their romantic ties, and whether it hurt Sif to see Thor so in love with a Midgardian.

She made her way over to the track that circled the outside of the training area, plains and inclines mixed with expanses of flat ground to give a good all round experience for warriors and guards training for duty, to ensure they had a chance to experience all kinds of terrain levels. It was Thors idea, the track, and she was happy for it. On Midgard she used a treadmill set to change it's incline automatically, here the experience would be more organic. She slipped off her shoes, preferring to run barefoot, feel the earth shift under her feet, connect with nature. Something she had done as a child in Vanaheim. As she started running she took a deep breath and slowly let it go, relaxing into the simple pleasure of the run.

She ran until every muscle in her body ached, until her lungs burned, sweat covered her and her mind was full of nothing but thoughts of running, just running until she could cry from the exertion of it all. When she finally stopped, leaning on her legs and cursing the fact that she hadn't stretched before she started, she noticed Sif had stopped her drills and was watching her carefully. Taking a calming breath Gylla finished stretching and made her way over to Sif with a smile and a small wave. As she neared Sif clenched her fist over her heart and bowed deeply.

“Gylla, it's good to see you.” Touched, Gylla returned the gesture, a small lump in her throat.

“Lady Sif, I must admit, that wasn't the welcome I anticipated.”

“Gylla, you needn't be so formal, you've known me since I was young. Just Sif, please.” She gestured towards the exit, and the pair slowly started walking in that direction, heads leaning towards each other as they spoke in low whispers. While much was changing they both knew that some of what they had to say was not for the ears of most. “Thor has spoken to The Warriors Three and myself about what happened in the past, what he knows. After everything Loki has done I'm unhappy that you are championing for him, but I understand your reasons. I trust Thor, and he trusts you, and the things he's told me have put much in a new light.” Gylla nodded, she couldn't be angry about, or discount Sifs opinions, much had happened that she hadn't lived through and Sif had... Everyone was in the dark to a certain degree, and their experiences dictated their opinions. This was a difficult situation that even she didn't have the measure of yet.

“There is much left for everyone to learn, unfortunately we must wait until certain people deem it the right time to do so. I'm glad to see you didn't let the naysayers bully you into putting down your weapons and take up the mantel of the Good-Wife. You're far too skilled a fighter to abandon it as a path.” The smile Sif gave was a mix of pleasure and sadness, the kind of smile that involuntarily pulled at the face of someone who was proud but also disappointed that life hadn't turned out quite the way they had planned.

“They tried, truly they did, but I have had Thor and The Warriors Three to remind me that this is what I do best, and to turn from it to appease others would be a crime.” They made their way towards the kitchens, both famished and thirsty, both wanting to sit down and enjoy the company of someone they hadn't seen for a very long time. Gylla couldn't help the pride the rose in her chest at the woman Sif had become... She'd seen her on the few brief visits she had made to Midgard to aid SHIELD, of course not in person, and had felt pride then at the strength and goodness that shone from Sif like a beacon.

“Then they have done the job I would have done. Have you a partner?”

“No... Not since... The only man so far who could match me, entertain me, and really see me was Thor, but that is long over. I have yet to meet anyone even half the man he is.” She sounded resigned, and Gylla recognised that tone as one she had heard in her own voice often enough... Finding someone on Midgard to stand beside her, not knowing who she was or what she was capable of, someone who could keep up with her... It had seemed impossible. Still did, if she was honest. She couldn't blame Sif her despondency at it all. For women like them, the romantic pool was much shallower.

“A shame, you were a fine match. I hear he has eyes for a mortal.”

“Aye, her name is Jane. She is a scientist, although I'm not entirely sure what that is. She seems pleasant enough, although I fear her life span being so short he will end up with his heart broken. Still, we cannot help who we love, can we?”

“No... No we cannot.” Her mind drifted back to Steve, her volunteer, the date she'd missed and the future that could have been but now... Well, now it was gone. She reached for the kettle, ready to fill it and make them both a cup of tea. “Mores the shame in that.”

\---

Weeks had passed since Gylla and Odin had spoken in his study, and as far as she was aware no progress had been made, after Friggas outburst there had been nothing, no escalation or indication that the pair had spoken about their families past. She put it out of her mind though, continuing to visit with Loki, trying to piece together what had happened while she had been gone without having Loki able to tell her his side of it all. Now was the time, she had decided, to broach the subject of removing the bindings that had taken her Little Princes voice, to give him the chance should he choose to take it to have his say. They had made progress, or at least it felt like they had, in rebuilding their relationship. He seemed happy to see her now, spent less time rolling his eyes and sighing. It was possible that she had been able to remind him of their shared past, their relationship before. Something she had not really spoken of, knowing that what had happened that day was Friggas tale to tell, not hers. Her voice alone would not be enough to convince him, as much as she wished it would.

For now though, she had something she needed to do, someone she needed to see. She should have gone to him first, spoken to him as priority, but his allegiance was something she was unsure of, and she knew well enough to not visit him without all of her ducks in a row.

His old post was long gone, the Bi-Frost still in disrepair, his observatory not rebuilt. Without the Bi-Frost the observatory was not required, it served only to open the paths between realms, and he could see well enough without it. He spent his days wandering the castle and it's grounds, one eye and one ear here, the others seeing and hearing everything in all of the other realms. How he coped with so much information she had no idea, and she wasn't about to ask. It wasn't important. The knock at her door didn't surprise her as much as it should have, and when she pulled it open to reveal him standing there she could only smile.

“The All Seeing, All Knowing.” He returned her smile and bowed, and she stepped aside to allow him to enter.

“Yes, I imagine it's quite unnerving.” They made their way over to the fireplace, where Gylla indicated for him to take the arm chair, pulling up a desk chair for herself. He sank into the armchair gratefully, tired to his very bones after everything that had been happening of late.

“It can be. Of course you know I planned on finding you, but unless your powers have evolved to mind reading, you do not know why?” She poured them both a glass of iced tea, something she’d had to improvise since she’d arrived as Asgard didn’t sell the kind she was used to and lemons weren’t something that grew here. It was interesting, if somewhat boring. Really, it was just tea with honey that she’d left in the cold room to chill. It would do, however, even if the tea was strange and reminded her of how much she’d changed since she was last here… How much everything had changed. Passing the second glass to Heimdall she got as comfortable as she was able in the little wooden chair, facing him calmly, ready for the conversation that stretched out ahead of them.

“There has been no evolution, so yes, I am in the dark as to your reasons.” He smiled at her gently, sipping his tea cautiously, his smile widening when he found he enjoyed it.

“They are many, I'm afraid. It may take some time.”

“I have time for you, Gylla. My apologies for not being able to offer aid those years ago... My loyalty lays with Asgard and the All-Father... My duty is to them, and in that instance in whoever ruled. That was Frigga, and despite my misgivings... My hands were tied.” He was never that open, and she quirked an eyebrow involuntarily. Heimdall was stoic, he didn’t show emotions or admit regrets. He was The Gate Keeper, All Seeing, his job never allowed for him to be anything other than those things, to utter anything other than the facts around whatever situation he was in, or the questions asked of him. To see true sorrow and regret in his eyes, in the lines of his face… It was unexpected to say the least.

“I understand, you owe no apologies.” He knew she was being genuine, that she honestly saw no reason for him to offer any kind of apology, but he also knew she was wrong. That she wasn’t seeing the situation for what it was, what he’d done. The impact of his actions had reverberated across all of the realms, having farther reaching consequences than he could ever have imagined in his worst nightmares. Obviously it was not his actions alone that had sparked everything, many things had happened after that had compounded on it all, but he saw what happened that day as a catalyst for the destruction that had followed. For everything that had followed.

“I do. Don't forget, I see all. While I have been bound from speaking of what I saw, do not think I did not see it.”

“That answers, in part, a question I had.” She shifted in her seat, leaning forward to close off some of the space that lay between them, eyes searching his for answers before she had even asked a question. “How did she get you to keep the knowledge from the All-Father?” He smiled ruefully, hands tightening slightly around his cup as he prepared to try and explain what had transpired that day.

“I have always known the truth of Loki's heritage... I was the one who first saw him in the frozen wastes. One of the reasons I have kept such a close eye on him through the years is this fact, our fates are tied and they always have been, from that very first day until our last. When you discovered the truth, and Loki himself, Frigga bound my memories of what transpired that day to his. As long as he forgot, so did I. The loss was explained by Frigga as a by product of the bond between Loki and myself, an accident that couldn't be undone, and that made sense to me. It is his true self, after all, the Jötun in him, that I am so bound to. I was told the same story as the rest, and while it didn't sit as neatly with me as it would have had I not been able to see you in your travels, I still believed. I am an old fool.” He sighed heavily, resting his head in one hand and rubbing his temples.

There was a time when I trusted the queen, and it pains me greatly to speak these words aloud, but that time has passed. When the magick that bound Loki's memory broke, so it did for me. With the full truth of what transpired that day clear in my mind, with everything I had done, or not done then blinding me, I raced to All-Fathers chambers to tell him it all. I was sure he did not know, but that he must. What Frigga did that day, and every day after that, was criminal. She must have known my intent, blinded as I was by purpose and righteous anger I didn't watch her. She was able to bind me again, I know not how, so that the only people I could speak of as to what transpired that day was herself, until now I suppose. Something in the binding is changing, I can feel it weaken. That day, instead of telling All-Father of that day, I told him of Thor and Loki’s trip to Jötunheim. At least in that I could do some good, although even that was too little in the grand scheme of things.” She saw how difficult it was for him to admit to that all written on his face, how painful being so open about his failings and misjudgements was for him. She knew that talking so negatively about Frigga would be tearing him apart, she was after all his queen, and he was bound to protect the royal family, not speak so negatively about them or their actions.

“How can you blame yourself for not helping when you remembered nothing of what transpired until it was too late, and then could not speak of it?” Her tone was gentle, reassuring in it’s way, as she tried to ease some of his guilt, tried to get him to see that his hands had been tied and there was nothing he could have done. He looked up at her with a grateful half smile and waved a hand dismissively in her direction, as if he were waving away her words.

“I was only bound after you were banished. After Frigga replaced the glamour on Loki, twisted him... There were many times that I could have intervened had loyalty to this house not kept me steadfastly in place. She should never have made it to the observatory. But she is queen, and was acting ruler... I didn't know what she planned... I see what happens as it comes to pass, not the future, and I cannot read minds, but her intention was clear even without those gifts.”

“Do not blame yourself my dear Heimdall. What is done is done. I should never have left Loki alone, never visited Frigga... Many things should have been done differently, but it had to happen this way.” He let out a deep shaking breath, closing his eyes and sinking deeper into his chair, and she saw clearly the depths of his feelings and concerns, the weight they placed on his shoulders. He must have struggled under that weight as everything happened around him, feeling himself sinking and being smothered by it, and not able to say anything to anyone. She knew he would never have confronted Frigga about it all, wouldn’t have dared speak out to the queen no matter how right doing so would have been.

“Loki should never have suffered this way. We have no idea what transpired in the abyss to warp him into the creature he is today.”

“Not yet we do not. I have a question I wish not to ask, but I must.” She took a deep breath, unsure about how the answer to this question would change things, what doors it would open depending on his answer. “How did you never see the treatment Loki received in his prison here?”

“I truly do not know. It is a strange thing with Loki, on more occasions than I wish to count he has vanished from my Sight. I turn my gaze to him and See nothing. His power is blocked, and yet I still cannot see him.”

“Maybe it is the Jötun in him?” She was reaching, and she knew it, but there was no other explanation she could think of. With his magic Loki was powerful enough to block Heimdalls sight, but without? It should be impossible... Unless someone else was blocking it, and that lead to a different set of concerns.

“It is worse since his fall from the Bi-Frost.”

“Then something that has come to pass has complicated an already complicated matter. Thank you for speaking to me so freely, I know it must have been difficult to do so.” The smile that flashed briefly across his face let her know that her words were a balm on at least one wound. She could not heal all the wounds of his soul with words, but together their actions may be able to help.

“I have wrongs I wish to right Gylla. By you, by Loki, by Odin and by the people of all of the realms effected by my inaction.”

“And right them you shall. What are your thoughts on allowing Loki his speech back?”

“There are many things we need to know, about the people he worked for and with in his attack on Midgard… We must know if they plan a similar assault here, and how to best ready ourselves. We have no knowledge of this Other, neither does S.H.I.E.L.D. With Loki unable to speak, we have little chance of gaining any footing.”

“I could read his mind.” The very idea of it made her stomach feel lead lined, and she knew that even though she offered it now as an option, she would never be able to go through with it.

“Not without his permission, that much I remember well Gylla. You do not like reading minds without permission.”

\---

Odin called a closed hearing with the Council later that day, and Gylla knew without question that Heimdall had spoken to him about her thoughts regarding Loki, so it didn’t surprise her that she received an invitation to attend and speak her case. Without the rest of the populace of Asgard in attendance she knew there would be less posturing, more honesty and open debate without having to convince the people that Loki’s family had no feelings for him at all. The Council of Elders (otherwise known as The Nine, although that name was incorrect now) was the arm of justice and fair trial in Asgard, and as such was made up of those who had skills in those areas as well as the royal household. Of course, Loki was no longer among their numbers which left Odin, Frigga, Heimdall, Thor, Hel the ruler of Helheim and distributor of souls, Tyr the patron God of justice, Syn the Goddess of defendants on trial and Vor the Goddess of marriage and contracts, one of the wisest of all the Elders who could not be lied to. She could see the truth the way Heimdall saw all that was. They were an intimidating group, and this would be the first time she had ever truly stood before them, instead of at their side. She could only imagine how demeaning it had been for Loki to be dragged beaten and bruised before them as they served their justice for his crimes, having once stood as the trickster in their numbers, offering his own unique take on the actions of the populace before him. He had never believed anyone in Asgard had truly enjoyed his company, had always believed they thought the worst of him, how fitting it must have been for him to be in that situation. Degrading, horrible, and fitting his belief in himself. He had shown her so much in his letters, more than he probably realised. Before she went to see the Council she decided to visit with Loki, not to tell him that the hearing was happening, she didn’t want to get his hopes up, but to ensure that her daily visit occurred without the possibility of delay or cancellation. She had no idea how long the hearing would last, and she had spent too long building up a level of trust between herself and Loki to have it lost over a missed meeting.

The path she walked was all too familiar now, the palace going from bright and airy to dank and dark the closer she got to the basement prison. Staff that recognised her nodded or waved as she passed, although some had nothing but glares and disapproving shakes of the head to offer her. That was their prerogative, and she let their dislike flow from her like water off of a ducks back. It wasn’t their fault any more than it was hers that their opinion of her was wrong, although any opinion they had of Loki and her relationship with him was more complicated. They had suffered so much in her absence she was certain.

When she entered his cell she found him curled up in the top corner of his mattress, arms wrapped tightly around knees pulled close to his chest. She couldn't see his face, but the shaking of his shoulders told her that he was either silently laughing or crying. She was earlier than usual, he wasn't expecting her, so a private moment of grief was possible. She didn't want to intrude, or snoop, but she also didn't want to leave without seeing him. She made her way over to his bed, not trying to muffle her footsteps for a change so he had warning that she was there, slipping onto the mattress behind him and laying a hand on his arm, keeping her body far enough away from him that she wasn't smothering him while being close enough to offer comfort should he choose to take it. He stiffened under her hand, his breath catching, before it seemed like he melted, body relaxing completely and the sobs that she had hoped he hadn't been silently making found a sound. It broke her heart, the childlike whimpers and sniffled weeping, and she rolled the now mailable form of him towards her, tucking his head into her shoulder and holding him tight against her in the kind of comforting hug she hadn't given him in so very long. His hands wrapped themselves in the front of her dress, clinging tight as if letting go would cast him adrift, and she rocked him lightly, humming the song she had always sung when he was young and unsettled. Tears wet her skin and she knew this wasn't a game, wasn't a trick or a lie, something was deeply troubling her little prince and she had no way of finding out what it was. 

\---

The Great Hall was more intimidating without the usual throngs of people to fill it, it's sheer size fully visible without the shadows and noise and throngs of people to muffle the echoes and mask the depths. Her footfalls echoed across the marble, and she was conscious of how long it took to make her way from the door to the small table set up in front of The Council of Elders, the place she would take to stand her ground and fight her case. She attempted to still the shaking in her hands, the fluttering of her heart, but knew that even without visible evidence at least one of their number would know instinctively how nervous she was.

She stood at the table, hands resting too heavily on it's cool surface, feeling the indent of nervous scratches left by the nails of those waiting for judgement under her fingers. It was imperative that she made her case calmly and without undue emotion, she had to speak for the good of everyone and not seem to be simply favouring her old charge. She watched Frigga, looking past the regal mask the queen wore to the emotions running underneath. Of everyone she would be the hardest to convince, the hardest to make see the good in her plan. Frigga had ample reason to want Loki kept silent. She didn't need to win them all over, just the majority. She had Heimdall on her side, and she suspected Odin and Thor too, that was three out of eight, not the majority by any means but a strong start without having even spoken yet. She met Hels eyes and bowed deeply, repeating the gesture for each of the council members in turn, showing the respect and deference their position inspired in her.

Odin spoke from his place at the centre of the table, Frigga to his right, Thor to his left, and Loki's empty seat to Friggas right. He looked at each of the council in turn as he started to speak “I have called this meeting of the Council of Elders to hear from Gylla O din dóttir regarding the prisoner and traitor Loki Laufeyson.” A lump appeared in her throat, eyes welling. While she had worked here she had been without a surname as befitting her position and the circumstances of her arrival, in giving her not only a surname but one that placed her as his daughter, he was telling everyone that she was to be trusted, respected and was welcomed. She spotted Thor and Heimdall smiling proudly, the words not surprising them, but Frigga was a different story entirely. Her face was set angrily, eyes swimming with rage and shock. She hadn't known he was planning on backing Gylla in such a way, backing her return, her character, and defending her against any accusations about her absence. If anyone saw the swirl of emotions that raced across her face they politely ignored it. 

Syn looked at her with eyes that sought the truth, trying to see behind the possibility of a mask or ward. Gylla let herself be open while Syn spoke. “Gylla, we are aware of your history with Loki, you raised him like a son. Much has changed since then... Is your request being made based on the evidence of the present, or the shadow of the past?”

“I will be honest and say both. The past shows me what is possible in the present and for the future.” The council nodded, seemingly relieved with her honesty, if not still wary that it could be a double bluff.

“Well spoken. Your honesty is appreciated. Now, tell us what you have come to request.” Vor spoke this time, her voice gentle but still lined with steel. Gylla took a deep breath, raising her head, taking a deep breath and steadying herself again to make her case. She couldn't afford to throw away this opportunity, it mattered too much to too many people, even if they didn't know it yet. Even if she didn't know how important it really was.

“I'm here to humbly ask the council to remove the bind that silences Loki. I know why he is silenced, and I understand the reasons behind it, but without his voice Loki can offer no truths, even if he offers lies. It is important to know what Thanos and The Other have planned, what they did to compound the darkness in Loki. He was broken, but they shattered him. I have glimpsed something in his mind, something that concerns me, and I feel it would be in our best interest to allow Loki his voice, to discover what us happening, and attempt to bring him back into the fold.” She kept her back straight, her voice even despite her fear that even as she said it she couldn't be sure that it would happen. So much was in shadows right now, so much unsaid and any progress she believed she has made was tentative at best. It was a gamble, as so much was, and she wasn't sure it was one she would win.

“What do you know of Thanos and The Other?” Odin looked surprised as the question fell from his lips, eye wide.

“Only what I have gleaned from the attack on Midgard and glimpses from Loki's mind that I saw by mistake. His mind is not the secure place it once was, and those names seemed to be reverberating as if screamed into an empty hall.” A flash of sadness passed across Thor and Odins features, reminding her of their concern for Loki despite his actions.

“Can you not simply reach into Loki's mind and gather the information we require yourself?” The question came from Frigga, and Gylla expected no less. She was pushing to show weakness.

“You should know better than most that I will not reach into someone's mind without permission, and to do so would destroy the tentative trust I have been working to build with him. He would never come back to himself, or choose to help us, if I violated him in such a way.” Frigga smiled, seemingly pleased with the reply in a way that was worrying. How had that played into whatever plan Frigga had? Surely she wasn't supporting the call for his voice to be returned? That didn't seem like the smile she offered. Hers was one of believed victory.

“Where do your loyalties lay Gylla? To Loki or to Asgard?” The question came from Frigga again, and the tone was one of victory and pride. Gylla stood straighter, tipping her chin defiantly.

“My loyalties lay with myself. I was banished from this land, sent to live in exile on Midgard. I have held no loyalty to anyone but myself for centuries. I have been called back here to help, and I shall, but do not confuse my assistance for servitude, loyalty or forgiveness.” A ripple went through the elders, and she saw Heimdall smile to himself as Frigga blustered. Before she could angrily reply to Gyllas statement, Tyr spoke up.

“While I can't claim not to be intrigued by the story alluded to, now is not the time to delve into it. Your reasoning is sound, and I don't think we can argue with it. I would have preferred loyalty to Asgard, but at least your loyalty doesn't lay with another realm. Standing for yourself and not the whims of others makes me feel that you will do what is best, and not what others have told you is best.” Gylla relaxed, relieved that Friggas plan to discredit her had backfired so dramatically. “We shall retire to make our decision.” The council stood, walking out of the door behind them into the antechamber, leaving Gylla to wait alone in the great hall.

The time passed with unbearable slowness, leaving her restlessly fidgeting and worrying that she hadn't done enough and would fail in her goal. To return to Loki and tell him that she had tried and failed to help in the way she had hoped to would be a devastating blow to them both, maybe less so to him as he didn't have the advanced notice of her intention. She didn't have to tell him at all, although that would be deceitful in a way she wasn't comfortable with.

By the time the door opened and the elders returned she thought she was going to throw up, nerves almost getting the better of her. She bowed to them all again, as they entered and took their places. Everyone but Odin sat, and she stayed standing, partly out of protocol, partly because she wasn't entirely sure she could move without shaking so much her legs would give out. Odin struck Gungnir against the floor, the sound ringing loudly if not unnecessarily in the empty room... Generally the action, now an integral part of these meetings, was used to quiet the masses and let them know a decision was reached. She looked at the faces of the elders, trying to read something in them to give her an answer, but aside from a small half smile on Thors face and what could be considered a frown in the right light on Friggas, there was nothing.

“Gylla, we have heard your request and after much mediation we have come to a decision.” Her stomach dropped, fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly, her ears ringing and eyes threatening to well with tears.

“I wish to thank the council for hearing me today, and I will honour your decision, whatever it may be. You have my word.”

“Thank you Gylla. The council have decided that the argument you made today holds much weight, and as such we will allow the removal of the bindings that stay Loki's tongue. His magic will still be bound, but he will have the freedom of speech and will once again be able to eat should he so choose. The binding requires that the person who loves him the most cut the thread, it will not break for anyone else, and as such tonight I call for myself, Frigga, Thor and You, Gylla, to come to Loki's cell to remove the bindings. While we all love him dearly, until we try to remove the binding we wont know who will succeed.” Her legs chose that moment to give out completely, and she dropped into the chair behind her with a thump, head dropping into her hands as tears of relief filled her eyes. She struggled to pull herself together, to stay strong, to not look like the wreck she felt she was. When her shaking stilled, and her breath steadied, she looked at the smiling eyes of Thor and Heimdall before meeting the eyes of the rest of the council.

“Thank you. I apologise for my reaction, I wasn't expecting this outcome. You won't regret this, I swear it.” She bowed deeply, and they nodded at her, as close to a return of the bow that she could hope for. She'd done it... She'd made this step forward. Things would be moving forward, looking up.

\---

The relief she felt at the turn in the Great Hall must have made her too relaxed, too complacent. She stepped out of the castle grounds for the first time since she had arrived back and headed towards the market, wanting to brows the stalls, maybe buy a trinket or two, some supplies for her medicine bag. Something... Anything. A celebration of sorts while she still could, before things grew ever more complicated. Not knowing if the stall that sold herbs was still where it used to be she made her way down the narrow passage closest to the palace, the quickest way to the stalls that sold the more obscure items that weren't popular with the general populace. She didn't pay attention to what was going on around her, too busy humming happily to herself to hear anything at first. Not until the first voice called out to her.

“Bitch!”

“Traitor!” “Whore!” “Deserter!” “You are not wanted here!” “Vanir scum!” More voices called out, maybe four, maybe more than that. She ignored them, ignored their insults, ignored their venom, instead continuing on her path.

“Why did you even come back here after what you've done!?” She heard footsteps crunch on the gravel behind her, the footfalls deliberate. She started to turn when a blinding pain ripped through the back of her head, and as her face collided with the wall beside her she realised she'd been struck, and that she was in trouble. Her vision swam and her knees buckled, dropping her into a heap on the floor, her things scattering around her. Disoriented she tried to roll over, but suddenly there was a weight on her back and she knew with a halting familiarity that someone was pinning her to the floor. Unwilling to let her attacker do whatever he or she was planning her mind scrabbled for a spell, any spell, to free herself, but with a sickening crunch that sent waves of pain shooting through her arm and made her want to vomit a heavy black boot stamped on her hand, breaking bones. A boot she recognised, fleetingly, before she passed out as another blow struck the back of her head, bouncing the side of her face off of the ground below her.

\---

It was dark, so dark. Her eyes were open but she could see nothing. At first she'd thought she was blind, blinking rapidly, until she realised the room she was in was sealed so tight that not a sliver of light could make it's way inside. She didn't have a problem with darkness, not normally, but this was different. It was total. Not a shadow, or a shade of grey. So focussed on the pitch blackness, it took her a moment to realise that she couldn't really move. She struggled, rope bit into her wrists, her body ached, and her heart plummeted when she realised she was tied, tight, to a chair. Ankles to the legs, arms twisted behind her, bound tight. Her fingers were cold and tingled, a sure sign that the circulation was being cut off. Her ankle and fingers burned, and she knew they were broken, her shoulder too felt wrong and she had no doubt the rest of the aches in her body were bruises and cuts. Whoever had done this to her had something else planned, some reason to hide her away and restrain her. They didn't understand her magic though, probably assuming that binding her hands and breaking her fingers would stop her weaving the spells she needed to free herself. They were wrong. She focussed on the feel of the rope around her wrists, felt the tingle of magic flow into it, felt the ropes loosen as the magic wrapped around it and slipped into the fabric of it. It was more tricky this way, with no eyes on what she was doing, her hands incapable of channelling the magic, but it wasn't impossible, and slowly the ropes loosed enough for her hands to slip free. 

She needed light. She needed to see instead of feel the damage to her body. She needed to focus and heal what she could to escape. And she needed her hands to heal, which gave her another problem. Could she heal her broken hands with broken hands? It wasn't something she'd ever had to do before, she didn't know how long it would take if it worked at all, and she certainly didn't know how long she had before someone came back. With a pained groan she placed her left hand across her chest, feeling her heart pounding from the pain under her palm, placing her right hand across the top of it as lightly as she could afford to, she uttered the spellwork, something she wasn't used to but needed to do to ensure this attempt worked. Her hand warmed rapidly to an almost unbearable heat that pulsed through the bruised tissue and shattered bone, making her eyes well and her breath come out in jagged gasps. She felt the bone grind as it shifted back to here it should be, and the pain she felt intensified causing her head to swim and her vision to blur. As the bone knotted together much slower than she would have liked, her ears started ringing... The pain was intense, and she felt herself slipping closer and closer to unconsciousness, her body trying to give in to it's need to shut down from the pain, and her mind fighting it, knowing that having to re-break and heal her hand again would be worse. She couldn't stop, couldn't slow, couldn't relax until this was done.

When she finally felt the pain subside, reducing to a dull ache like she'd overworked her hand, she knew the job was done and sank back into her chair, exhausted and emotional, tears streaming down her face. She knew she needed to fix her other hand, but needed to take a moment to gather herself before she could do so. Even though the pain was pretty much gone, the memory of it remained, and the energy it took to hold herself together for the duration was too much.

She carefully laid her still broken hand across her chest, placing her now healed but still tender had across it. With a deep breath she started the painful process again, focussing all of her energy on the task at hand. The pain was almost too much, and as she strained to keep herself conscious she heard a rushed crunch of gravel under boots outside the building. Tears welled in her eyes, she didn't know who was coming, but she knew that she was not close enough to completing the healing for a fight. A door opened, but not the one to the room she was in, and the footsteps neared, panic flashing through her, unsettling the delicate balance she was struggling to keep.

“And you are sure she is here?”

“Yes... It wasn't easy to locate her, they have attempted a spell to hide her from my sight, but it was poorly worked and weak. She is here, and she is hurt.”

“Then we must be quick.” Like a flash she realised Thor and Heimdall were there, that they had found her, that she didn't have to fight. Relief flooded her, and with a painful snap the healing finished, and the world went black.

 

 


	6. An Update and Plea...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this is allowed, if not I understand if it is deleted.

So this is a bit of an update about what's going on with me ATM and a plea for help. 

I'm currently undergoing extensive dental work that is costing about £6000, and dealing with a lot of work shit and trying to start a college course and do my maths GCSE... Things are stretched to breaking point with me, my dog is always pooping everywhere due to upset stomachs (she's a delicate thing apparently), work is screwing me over to the point I've broken down in tears three times at work last week (in front of the kids, I just got overcome and I hate that). So I'm extending a cup and hoping that people can help me ease the burden at least financially.

If you can please go to my Go Fund Me page and donate, or if you can't donate share it to others that can. http://www.gofundme.com/etfho8

I'm working on the next chapter, and I'm hoping to get it up before my Christmas break is over. 

I love you all to the moon and back. xx


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